


Alone Again

by 5_Minutes_2_Midnight



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), Torchwood
Genre: Angst, Doctor Whump, Emotional and Physical hurt/comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery, Telepathy, mainly set in Torchwood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-04-07 01:44:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 23,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4244814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/5_Minutes_2_Midnight/pseuds/5_Minutes_2_Midnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Doctor randomly calls Jack for help in the middle of the night, he and his team must sort out what happened and how to fix it. Set post season 3 of DW (when Jack leaves) and around season 2 of TW (when jack returns).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Why?

Hi! \^_^/ I hope you enjoy!

 **Disclaimer** : I'm flattered, really. But no. I don't, and I never will own these characters. Also, I drop a lot of Easter Eggs in my longer fics (they're marked with a *), so I'll credit those at the end in case you want to guess them. Let me know if you got them or even if you spot one I missed! Happy Hunting!

 **As a constant preface** : I don't have a beta, so I want to _explicitly_ state that if you see ANY mistakes (i.e. to vs. too, there vs. their, an extra comma... Etc. *no matter how small!*) just tell me. I'll try to fix it ASAP. Just give me the whole phrase (for reference) and what needs to be changed in it. There's nothing worse when I see a mind-blowing sentence but my mind focuses on the ONE missspelling... ;)

**Alone Again**

**Chapter 1: Why?**

He stared out the window with vacant eyes and an expressionless face. While Jack was certain the Doctor knew he kept glancing between him and the dark and deserted road, he never showed it; and, for some reason, that seemed worse. You can't just keep hundreds of years of emotions bottled up inside you—Jack's tried; it doesn't work. But he really didn't want to be the first to break the silence. In truth, he was afraid that if he did, the Doctor would close up even more (if that was even possible).

His forehead was resting against the assuredly cold window, his warm breath fogging the glass, but besides that there was no movement, no sound, none of that normal child-like enthusiasm this regeneration held. There was nothing. The silence was unbearable.

"Doctor... I'm sorry." What could he say, really? And even that was pathetic and empty, but really, what could he say?

Another few silent minutes went by, and Jack was almost certain the Doctor wouldn't say anything in response. "Why?"

Why? It was the first thing he'd said since they got in the car, but Jack was hoping for a little less unanswerable and rhetorical question. Why what? Why was Jack the one who was sorry? Why do bad things like this happen to good men like him? Why does the universe have no mercy, no pity, on its savior?

Why _what_?

Jack had no answer. Not only because he didn't know which question he was supposed to respond to, but also because he didn't have a response to any of them. "I don't know." It was the truth, at least. "I wish I had an answer for you, Doctor, I do, but I—I just don't know. I am so sorry, though. I know it doesn't mean much, but I am."

The Doctor nodded imperceptibly and they retreated into their original states: the Doctor veiled by an emotionless mask and Jack throwing worried glances at his turned head. But when Jack turned to look at the Doctor again, the headlights from an oncoming car—the only one for miles around—reflected off of something on the Doctor's cheek, its shine contrasting the rest of the dark landscape.

As they had been driving alongside an open field, Jack easily pulled off of the road and put the car in park. The Doctor had just enough time to throw a confused look toward the empty driver's seat and open door, before Jack was already on the opposite side of the car and opening his own.

As the Doctor was still mostly propped up against the window, he gave a small, nearly inaudible yelp as it was pulled out from under him; then he briefly glared at Jack before quickly turning his head away.

"Doctor. Doc, please, look at me." It was spoken so softly, with such care and devotion, that the Doctor couldn't refuse his request. He could never refuse kindness. He turned his head slowly, so slowly, and looked at Jack with eyes that actually showed his age. The 900 years of pain and knowledge and missed chances and guilt—so much guilt. "I'm sorry." The Doctor ducked his head again, but Jack lifted it with one hand and forced the time lord to look at him. "It wasn't your fault; there was nothing you could do." The Doctor's face creased in grief, and despite the fact that you could practically see the mental struggle he was going through, eventually he gave in and more tears leaked unbidden from the corners of his closed eyes.

Jack reached around the Doctor and undid his seatbelt, his exhausted body falling into Jack's great coat. "It's going to be okay. We'll fix her and she'll be back to normal, alright? It's going to be okay Doctor, I promise." It was an empty promise, and they both knew it, but his words sent the Doctor over the edge and soon his silent tears turned into wracking sobs. Jack just held him, in this strange position that the Doctor was in: half sitting, half hanging over Jack's shoulder; and Jack trying to comfort a man over four times his age with nothing but open arms and soft words.

Eventually the tears stopped falling, and when Jack was sure that most of them had dried, he gently pushed the Doctor back into his seat and leaned against the car's frame. He wiped away the tear tracks on the Time Lord's face with his thumb and watched him with a look of sympathy and concern. "Feels better, right?"*

"Sorry," he mumbled back, dragging the backs of his hands across his cheeks.

Typical. As if leaning on somebody (literally and metaphorically), showing your true emotions, dropping the mask and letting someone in—someone like Jack who is probably the only living person who could understand—is worthy of an apology.

"Doctor, you have no reason to be sorry. It doesn't matter how much experience you have, losing something–someone–you love is always painful. I understand; I do. But we'll fix it. I don't know how, yet, but we will. We've done more with worse, right?"

He tried to give him a reassuring smile, but the Doctor wasn't really seeing him. Sure, he was _looking_ at him, but he wasn't _seeing_ him. There's a difference.

"It hurts," he said distractedly.

Jack tilted his head in confusion, "What does?"

"The silence. It hurts. There's nothing left, Jack. _Nothing_. No Time Lords, no TARDISes, nothing left to fill the void." He frowned. "You know we're telepathic, right? Time Lords, I mean."

"Yeah, Doc, I know."

He nodded. "Jack, there's a part of my brain—in most telepath's brains, really—but it's more pronounced in Time Lords—that is sectioned off specifically to be able to communicate with other Time Lords. And it's empty. Usually there'd be a buzz, like music that you can only hear the rhythm of, but it's only silence now. And it will never go away. I can't change that part of my brain—there was never a reason to—so I'm stuck with silence." He briefly paused, and when he spoke again his voice was choked: "Jack, it's _deafening_."

Jack felt sick; he couldn't even begin to imagine how the Doctor felt. He could only think to compare it to losing a human's senses—like your ability to see in color. "I'm so sorry," he offered, pulling the Doctor back into a hug. It was the only thing he could think to say and do.

_TBC_

 

1\. So, what's the plural for TARDIS? If you have a better idea let me know lol.

2. I know losing the ability to see in color doesn't really sound that bad (comparatively, at least) but I wanted to think of something"different", and I love art—so my life revolves around color.

* The Amazing Spiderman (2012); Flash


	2. Where?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Technically a flashback/set before chapter 1: The Doctor calls Jack and asks for his help.

He doesn't know how it happened. What caused everything to go sideways—well, sideways, upside down, inside out… He was in the control room—that much he remembers—but the Doctor otherwise had no recollection of the events leading up to the crash; which alone scared him more than the aftermath. But right now, _all he could think about_ was the aftermath (which was technically the present).

He somehow made it to the door of the TARDIS, through the smoke, and the debris, barely recognizing his own pain; especially when it was being drowned out by the ship's. But he made it out and collapsed almost instantly to the ground, sucking in huge lungfuls of clean air.  
  
He checked himself out first—basically by just making sure he had all his limbs in one place—before walking around his box to make sure there weren't any gaping holes in her either. When he circled back to the front he let out a shaky breath, then another one, and when he felt he was about to cry he turned away and started toward what looked like a normally-busy road. He didn't want to leave her, but what use was he if they just sat there together? At least this way he could go find help.

Help. He stopped mid-step. Who would help? He didn't know where or when he was, and even if he did, who could he call? Sarah Jane had her own life, and he wasn't about to pop in on it again, not when she had finally moved on. He could call Martha, but she left him, and she wouldn't really know what to do anyway. But who else was there?

Jack. Jack would know what to do. Plus he had the resources ( _even if it is Torchwood_ ), and he would be willing to help. Probably. Maybe.

The Doctor dug around in his pockets for the cell phone Martha had given him, and when he looked through the contacts, he just about sighed in relief that Jack's number was actually in it. Had he done that? He couldn't remember... He should have been able to remember. Anyway, whoever did was brilliant! The Doctor pressed "call" and waited. And waited. And waited. He grew more anxious as the phone kept ringing, but belatedly remembered that it _was_ 3:30 in the morning, and humans _do_ need to sleep…

But Jack picked up. Jack picked up with a partly pissed-off and slightly still asleep answer of _"What!"_  but the Doctor loved him for it. What he didn't love, however, was that he had no words for all that he had to say. His throat had closed up, and he suddenly realized his face was wet with what must have been blood—he would have known if he were crying. Right? " _Hello!_?" Oh, right, Jack.

"Jack, it's me; it's the Doctor."

He could hear it through the phone, his immediate jolt upright and the soft complaint from whomever he was sleeping with that night. "Doctor?" His voice got fuzzy as he moved the phone away from his mouth to look at the number again. "How'd you even get this number? Oh, right, the TARDIS, stupid question, nevermind." The Doctor gave out what sounded like a strangled sob from the other end of the line and Jack froze—that couldn't have been a sob, not coming from the Doctor. Not the one he knew. "Doctor, are you alright?"

There was a long pause before, "Jack, _please_ , I need you. The TARDIS—I don’t know, I think the TARDIS is dead. Jack, I can't feel her anymore, and we crashed somewhere, and I don’t know what to do." And then Jack could understand that foreign noise that came from the Doctor: the pure anguish and agony of yet another tragedy. He closed his eyes, partly because he had just woken up, mostly because he could practically feel the tension and misery radiating off of the Doctor through the phone.

"It's going to be okay, Doc. Do you know where you are? I'll come pick you up."

"Not really, I'm in a field heading towards a road…” He trailed off momentarily. “A470?"

"Okay, that’s good; at least you’re in Wales, that narrows it down." ( _barely_ ) "What else do you see?"

"There's a sign," he said, and then went quiet. "Brecon Beacons Food Festival, October 1st—" he suddenly became silent. Finally, "2008. Jack…when am I?"

He sounded like a child, like a boy who was lost and looking for his parents. Jack tried to swallow, but there wasn't anything to go down. "Friday, July 18th, 2008. 3:42am. Doc, is there anything else around you?"

"There's a building, I think." He was so absorbed in everything else he didn't even notice it in the dim lighting. “Hang on, there's a sign by its driveway: 'Libanus URC Church,'" he read.

"Okay, I think I know where you are. Will you stay there? Doc, I'll help you find the TARDIS again when I get there, but it'll probably take me at least an hour…"

"Yeah, I'll stay here."

Jack sighed and closed his eyes in relief. While he knew the Doctor would rather go back to his ship, it would only make him harder to find. "Thank you. I'll be there in a little while, okay? Why don't you see if the church is open? Most usually are, and it rained nearly every day this week so it's been getting cool outside."

"Okay."

He sounded resigned; he sounded tired; he sounded _old_ ; and it pained Jack to know there was nothing he could do about it. Yet. "I promise, I'll be there as fast as I can."

"Jack… Thank you," was all he heard before the line went dead.

 

~•~

 

"Shit."

"What's wrong?" Ianto mumbled into his pillow.

"I don't know… But I really have to take care of this, so I'll see you in a little while. And don't think this means you can ditch work," Jack added with a small smile as he kissed him on the cheek.

"What? Never."

"Good boy," he joked back, before sobering immediately and throwing on his clothes.

  
He got into his car, had the keys 2 inches from the ignition, and stopped. "Oh, yeah, the TARDIS... Okay, roughly 4x4x8?" He asked himself, squinting in concentration. He glanced behind him at the back seat, then swore when he realized there was no way _any_ vehicle he had was going to be able to comfortably transport it. He shook his head and started the ignition anyway; they would solve it later, but right now he _had_ to get to the Doctor.

The drive was long. Or short. Jack supposes that it really depends on the occasion. _Technically_ he somehow managed to cut a 50 minute drive down to a 30 minute one, but it still felt like hours before he finally found the area the Doctor described. He scanned the empty fields as he drove towards the church, hoping to glimpse the TARDIS on the way in; but there was nothing, and Jack suddenly started to _really_ worry where, why, how, and _how bad_ this crash actually was.

 

:) _Hope you like it so far! Please let me know what you think!!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I’m working solely off of Google Maps here, so if I screwed something up, call me on it. Please. (plus, besides the fact that I’m working on foreign soil [haha see what I did there? Sorry, stupid pun], I suck at geography in general lol)  
> 2\. I’m not really sure where Ianto lives (or if we as the audience do) so call me on little details like that too.


	3. What?

Here's another chapter! Leave me a comment and let me know what you think!

**What?**

He was a mess. Worse than Jack had ever seen him. But by the way he slouched on the wooden steps in the church and his attitude about the whole ordeal, Jack would have bet his life— _though what was that worth now, anyway?_ —that the Doctor didn't even realize it. Jack approached him like he would a wild animal: cautious, slow, and fully aware of the damage that either party could do in such a delicate situation. "Doctor?" To his dismay the Doctor's eyes snapped up in fear, surprise, and anxiety despite his best efforts to avoid all of those things. He held his hands up placatingly and took a step back, "It's just me. Jack. You called me, remember?" Jack _thought_ he would have remembered, but he also wouldn't have been surprised if he didn't—there was a bump the size of a golf ball on the right side of the Doctor's head, blood still slowly dripping from it.

The frightened look in his eyes disappeared, replaced with a sort of indignation that Jack could tell was mostly for show. "Yeah, of course I remember; why wouldn't I?"

"I... I don't know, Doc." He slowly walked over and sat down on his left side on the stairs. "You just seemed surprised to see me." Jack was walking on paper-thin ice, and he knew it: but he was torn between knowing how the Doctor looked and not knowing how to treat him—physically _or_ emotionally.

"Yeah, sorry... It's—it's been a long night." The Doctor's voice cracked, and Jack felt his own heart crack at the sound.

He didn't know what he was doing—well, okay, maybe he did, but it was instinct—and while he probably should have asked first, or not even done it in the first place, he wrapped his arm around the Doctor and pulled him under his chin. He minded his wounds, though, knowing that, regardless of Time Lord _anything_ , they'd still hurt like a bitch, "Don't be sorry, you have nothing to be sorry for." His breath hitched, and soon Jack could feel the tears staining his shirt; he honestly didn't even care about the blood that would also be there. The choked back sobs and small jerks made Jack just hold him tighter, hoping against logical reason that he could protect him from all the pain he's ever endured. Finally he was able to breath more deeply, and, although it was beyond broken, tried to give Jack a smile. "Can you tell me what happened? You never know, we might be able to fix her."

The Doctor's face creased in despair, "I don't know. I can't remember what happened—" _See? told you it was a possibility,_ Jack's mind chimed in, "—or why we crashed. But, Jack, she—she's dead. I would feel her, and I can't."

"Maybe she's just resting, okay? Or recovering like you do when you're in a healing coma. Doc, you can't jump to conclusions like that; it could be any number of things and we'll figure out what it is. Do you trust me?" He nodded, albeit with tears in his eyes from denial and disbelief. Jack swallowed, stood, and offered his hand to the Doctor. "You know where she is?" He simply nodded again and led the way out of the church. Jack took a deep breath in and out then followed.

He silently trailed the Doctor, wanting to say something, wanting to comfort him, but not knowing how. They had to make their way through three different fields before they hit the outskirts of a forest; then another half-mile into that there was a clearing of felled trees with deep skid marks on the ground. The TARDIS was eerily silent and dark, and, upon setting eyes on it, the Doctor looked like he would break down again.

"Maybe it's her healing process," Jack tried again. "Or there's so much physical damage she doesn't want you to go in and get hurt." The Doctor looked at him with heavy skepticism but didn't say anything. "Doctor, I brought one of our vans... I think it'll be the easiest way to transport her—if you want to, of course," he quickly added.

"To Torchwood." It wasn't a question, nor was it spoken with any venom (well, not _that_ much venom)—it was more exhaustion—but his voice, nonetheless, made Jack stop.

"I know you're wary of them, Doctor, but it's safe. I promise I can protect you _and_ her," he gestured to the TARDIS, "if you come with me and let me and my team help."

"You mean you're not going to arrest me?" His lips curled up slightly, and the rarely-seen bitter expression on his face made Jack wince. And while he knew the Doctor was just deflecting his pain and anger onto him—not that he minded—, his words stung a bit, regardless. The Doctor immediately wished he could take it back, "I didn't—that wasn't—I'm sorry, Jack, I didn't mean that."

He nodded his head, "yes, you did. And you're right. But I won't let that happen. Not now. _Please_ , Doctor, **_trust me_**."

His tone was one of honesty and sadness, of loyalty and guilt. The Doctor swallowed and looked away from the compassion in his eyes. "Can you drive over here?"

Jack looked around him, "Farmers might get a little upset I ran over their crops, but yeah, I'll take the chance. You wanna come with while I get it?"

"No, I'll wait here. I'll be alright." Jack looked at him warily but took a few steps backwards before fully turning around and walking the short distance back to the SUV. "I'm always alright," he whispered to himself as he slid down the wooden frame.

Jack kept walking and pretended he didn't hear him.

 

 

Jack returned to the Doctor and was shocked at how much blood there really was on his face, visible only because of the growing light. But Jack's frown deepened at a red spot in the middle of the doctor's white shirt—something he hadn't noticed before but was bleeding almost as bad as his head. "What happened to your stomach?" Jack asked, pointing to the stain.

"Nothing," he replied calmly, pushing himself off the ground. He wavered slightly and put a hand against the TARDIS to steady himself, Jack moving forward to catch him; but he held the other hand out to stop him and leaned against the TARDIS for a moment instead. "I'm fine, Jack."

"As you ever are," Jack retorted. He knew it wasn't fair (nor the right time) to bring up this kind of conversation now, but the Doctor truly looked terrible—not just from the crash—and if he left subtle hints behind maybe it would make it easier to bring it up later? The Doctor didn't look at him, instead opting to walk to the back of the van to see how much space there was. Jack figured he would let the Doctor look for himself—maybe _he_ would be able to find a way to make it fit. "Doctor, I'm sorry." He just shook his head—in acknowledgement as much as in defiance—so Jack took the hint and changed the topic. "If we lay her on the side—well, will anything… y'know, tip over?"

"No, she should be fine." His voice was rough, clipped, and quiet. Jack hated it.

"Okay. Then how do you want to do it?"

Jack still has no idea how he managed it. How the Doctor managed to fit a full-size police box into the back of a standard SUV. But somehow the he did. Jack wryly thought to himself that he must be able to make _everything_ he touched "bigger on the inside". So, although that meant that his van (for the time being) was all but disassembled, it's fixable; plus it meant that they didn't have the risk of losing the TARDIS off of the roof. But that then—well obviously that meant that the TARDIS was... _in the car_. Which you would think would have made the Doctor happier… But not when he can't feel her. Not when all he has to do is turn around to see that the only link he had left in the entire universe to his planet, people, and past life, was severed in one landing.

But she can't be. It can't _possibly_ be that bad. Even if the Doctor can't feel her, there must be some other logical reason for it. He's lost so much already, why does he have to lose more?

The first real signs of daylight were showing along the horizon as they finally loaded the ship into the back and closed the doors. Jack shook his head in disbelief while the Doctor simply walked around the left side. "Wait," Jack called. The Doctor turned to him with a sort of exasperated ( _exhausted_ ) glare. "Are you in any pain?" It was a stupid question, but he truthfully wanted to know the answer. Either the Doctor was ignoring his injuries, or he was in shock and couldn't feel them—either way they had to do something about it.

He sighed heavily, "I told you, I'm fine. Why?"

Jack raised his eyebrows at him, "I was simply wondering if you felt as beat up as you actually look."

"No, it's _fine_. Can we go?"

"No. Come here," he gestured to back and reopened the rear doors, pulling out a first aid kit and laying it on the bumper. "Come on, the sooner you let me look at you the sooner we can leave." The Doctor gave in and leaned against the door. "Turn your head to the left. Please?" He added when the Doctor didn't comply. He cleaned the wound, knowing Owen would want to treat it later, then just bandaged it slightly. (He figured the Doctor would rip off whatever he put on mid-trip anyway.) "I'm just a field medic—and an out-of-practice, inexperienced one at that—so just know now that you'll probably need stitches from our actual doctor when we get back." The Time Lord just ignored him, mumbling something along the lines of _I **am** a Doctor_. "Now, what happened to your stomach?" The Doctor sighed and rolled his eyes at him, but wordlessly started to undo his buttons. Jack inhaled sharply when he saw the metal shard jutting from his abdomen, but otherwise said nothing.

"You need to leave it in. I can pull it out myself later, but not here; not now."

"So, then, you _did_ know about it."

The Doctor opened his mouth like he was about to tell him off— _How could I not have noticed it!? Do you think of me as an idiot!?_ —and while Jack could see every one of those emotions pass over his face, the Doctor eventually settled with a calm, practical, closed expression and a hardened, "Yes." Jack narrowed his eyes but accepted his answer and started re-packing the supplies. The Doctor took this as a sign that he was excused, and went and sat in the passenger seat, waiting for Jack.

The back doors slammed shut and Jack jumped in and started the engine, briefly looking at the Doctor before pulling back out towards the road and heading to Cardiff.

_TBC_

 

Sooo? Yes, no, maybe so? ;) Talk to me, people! I live off feedback! ^_^

 


	4. How?

**How?**

The sun had already risen by the time they got off of A470 into Cardiff, and Jack was still struggling with what he was supposed to do next. How would he explain the Doctor to his team? How would he help the Doctor through this? How were they going to fix the TARDIS?—because they _would_ fix her. “What do you want to do?”

The Doctor seemed to snap back to reality at Jack's words and gave him a blank look. “What?”

“What do you want to do? With the TARDIS, I mean. It would probably be easier and more secure if we brought her into Torchwood, but we can manage it if you want to leave her on the Plass or in an alley…” It truthfully _would_ be easier to try to solve what happened if they could have easy access to the ship; but that meant Torchwood would have easy access to the ship; and even after everything, he doubted the Doctor trusted Jack’s influence _that much_ to be able to protect such an invaluable part of him. (Or even to be able to protect himself…)

Fortunately the Doctor seemed to have thought about this already—he probably thought about it the moment he called Jack—so, although he was hesitant, he simply nodded and said, “We can take her into Torchwood.”

Jack was honestly surprised, but decided that there wasn’t anything he could say that would express his relief and gratitude, so instead he just stayed silent and headed towards Torchwood’s garage.

The Doctor was agitated the whole way there; not necessarily from what had happened, but from the uncertainty of what was going to happen next. Jack’s repeated assurances throughout the ride didn’t do much to calm him as they pulled into the garage, but he easily composed himself when they got out of the car, and Jack didn’t know whether the facade was for his benefit or the Doctor’s.

He was still slightly unbalanced on his own two feet, but with assistance from the car he managed to make his way to the back. “You think you can lift this?” Jack asked him with worry.

“Jack, I’m—”

“I swear to God, if you say ‘fine’ one more time, I’m locking you out here.” The Doctor looked at him shocked. “Doctor, I’m sorry. But you shouldn't have to lie to me; I just want you to be _truthfully_ 'okay'.”

“Can we just get inside? Please? I can carry her, Jack, really.”

Jack took a deep breath in and out, examining the Doctor, before getting in the back to lift the TARDIS from there. “On three, then?” The Doctor nodded. “One… Two… Three!” With strained grunts from both men they managed to get the ship out of the van and onto solid ground. Jack walked away to open the door, then came back and they once again hoisted the TARDIS in between them and carried her into Torchwood.

By the time they were done the Doctor looked spent, his remaining energy focused on keeping himself upright. “Okay, c’mon, sit down for a minute before you pass out.”

“What? No, I—” he cut himself off short when he remembered Jack’s threat—as harmless as it may have been—and gave in and laid down on the couch where Jack was. Within minutes he was asleep.

**  
**

It was weird to see the Time Lord so still, so sedentary, when all he ever does is run around. Or run _away_ , depending on the situation. Jack sighed and pushed himself off the couch, taking one last look at the Doctor before going into his office and closing the door. He ran over all the possible explanations again, but, still coming up with nothing positive, pulled out his phone to at least take care of one thing.

"What do you want, Jack?" Owen whined over the phone.

"I need you back at the hub."

"Jack, it's 6:30. What could possibly be so important that you can't wait 2 hours for me to do it?"

"I have a friend who's hurt—"

"Give him a band-aid."

" ** _Owen_**. No, I'm talking needing stitches and pulling out metal shards hurt. I can't do it by myself, and I can't trust _him_ to do it without _completely_ disregarding whatever pain he's in."

Jack heard him sigh heavily but knew he'd won—as hard as Owen tried to be, he was still a doctor and cared about the well being of others. "Okay, I'll be right there. You seem pretty calm, though, so I assume he's stable?"

"Yeah, he's sleeping on the couch right now," Jack answered, looking out at the floor below him.

"Mmm... Did—okay. Just make sure there isn't pressure on any of his wounds."

Jack noticed Owen's tone change to being semi-hesitant, "What's wrong?"

"Uhh, does he have a head wound?"

"Yeah... Why?"

"'Cause I don't know how good it is for him to be sleeping when he could have a potential concussion."

"Oh sh—" Jack just about fell out of his chair in his haste simply trying to stand up.

"Jack, relax, I'm sure it's fine."

"I'm going to ban that word from the hub," he mumbled under his breath.

"What?"

"Nothing. I'm going to go check on him."

"Sounds good. I'll be there soon."

"Thanks, Owen."

They hung up, both men swearing for different reasons, yet standing up for the same purpose.

Jack skipped most of the steps on his way down—only to find the Doctor in the same position—then tried not to worry when he didn't stir at Jack's persistent nudging. Jack just (ironically) hoped his body was so broken it fell into a healing coma—the alternative was... Inconceivable. He took a deep breath to calm himself before gently lifting the limp form into his arms and carrying him down to the med bay.

He watched him lying still on the table for a little longer before returning to the main part of the hub and the TARDIS. He circled it a few times, then paced back and forth in front of the doors, then hesitantly laid a hand on the exterior, hoping for some kind of connection. But the Doctor was right, there was absolutely no sign of life radiating off of the normally-inviting ship. It was cold, in fact. So cold it burned. And Jack wondered if that was just a taste of how it felt inside the Doctor's head: cold and empty and silent. He shivered and withdrew his hand.

He went back up to his office to mix himself a drink and not 5 minutes later—with a scowl determinedly fixed on his face—Owen walked in.

_TBC_

 


	5. Who?

**Who?**

Jack almost laughed at the sight of Owen. His posture was tired but stiff, his pace sluggish but urgent, and his expression of 'why me?' mixed with professionalism was priceless.

Owen spotted his smirk, "Shut up."

But it just made Jack's smile grow bigger, “I didn't say anything.”

His eyes narrowed, “Well I'm here; where's he?”

“Med bay,” Jack pointed.

Owen sighed, nodded, and headed in that direction, Jack on his heels. “So who is he?”

“Umm, about that. Don't tell him I said this, but he's actually kind of a 'what.'”

Owen stopped dead and stared at him. “So he's an alien?”

“Yeah. Though we technically are too, I guess, so be sure to say who.”

“Riiight. Okay... I'll ask again: _Who is he_?”

“He's called the Doctor.”

“The Doctor. You mean the-whole-reason-Torchwood-was-founded Doctor?”

Jack scoffed, partly at the ridiculousness of the claim and partly because Owen was the last person he'd expect to know the history of Torchwood. “Um, yeah, that one.”

“Then why are we—”

“He's not a threat to the planet, Owen. _Really_ , he's not. Especially now.”

Owen looked like he was going to say something else—or argue what the definition of "threat" actually is—though argumentative is his normal facial expression—but settled with a tired, "Okay." Jack followed him down to his lab, watched Owen's brief double-take of the Doctor looking human, then his hesitance of checking him over. He watched his shoulders sag and his jaw tighten before he turned to look at Jack—Jack had been waiting for it.

"Jack... I'm sorry, really, but he's—"

“I don't think he is." Owen looked at him with pity. "Don't give me that look. He can't be dead—I mean, he would have regenerated."

“What?”

“Regeneration. He would have changed his—you know he can change his face, right?”

“How would I know that? Why would you think I know anything about his species?”

“Hell, nobody alive knows everything about his species but torchwood knows a little about him. I thought you read the Torchwood charter? There's not much information there, but how else would you know Torchwood was founded because of the Doctor?”

He shrugged, "Ianto told me."

“Oh... Okay, I guess that does make more sense.”

“Yeah. So, why don't you think he's dead?”

“Time Lords have a way to cheat death, and after everything, I can't believe he would give up now. Not after he asked for help.”

“So what do we do?”

“I... Don't know. I mean, since he's unconscious, maybe it would be better to operate now? Best painkiller there is is sleep—in my experience.”

Owen scoffed at the idea, “Um, yeah, okay. Why don't you clean his head wound, then. We can start there.”

“Not the shard and shrapnel in his stomach?” Jack deadpanned.

Owen made a face at him, "It's not bleeding; and I'm more worried about his head if he is only ‘sleeping.’”

"Fair enough." Jack grabbed the wet cloth Owen held out to him and walked to the head of the table.

 _He's dead_ —no. He only looks dead. That's how it works, Jack thought. He only plays dead. _But what if he is?_ No. He's alive. He can't be dead; he really can't be. _Are you positive?_

The more blood Jack cleaned off, the more unsure he was. With the stains on the towel growing bigger, the more he thought he was wrong. But they had to try. If they cleaned and stitched and mended everything maybe he could do the rest. Maybe he would wake up on his own, and maybe together they would be able to fix the TARDIS. Maybe.

“That's all the blood I can clean off; you ready with whatever you have to do?”

“Yeah, think so. After I dig out the splinters of metal around the wound, I just have to stitch it closed.”

“Do you need me?”

“Not unless something goes wrong.”

"Reassuring," he said sarcastically. "Then I'll be in my office if something happens." Jack was just hoping he wouldn't be too wasted yet if something did.

Owen started fidgeting again as soon as Jack was gone. If the Doctor was alive, then he would feel it. He should give him some kind of actual anesthetic—but what if Owen gave him something that could kill him? _What are you talking about? He's dead. This is pointless._ But he may not me. _**He. Has. No. Pulse.** Does Jack really expect him to be all better with a couple of stitches?_ Might as well. He'd only be angrier if Owen did nothing. He sighed. "Well, if you are alive, I apologize in advance."

Jack didn't even get to finish his second drink before the Doctor was yelling for him. Wait. The Doctor. Was yelling for him. Shit. He was down in the lab and by the Time Lord's side within the minute, trying to hold him down in as calming a manner as he could.

"Jack! Jack!”

"I'm here. Doctor, relax, he's part of my team; he's just trying to help. Doc, relax.”

"Jack, he was—”

"I know, Doc, I know. But I told him to. Doctor, breath. No, look at me. Doc, look at  ** _me_** , you have to breath." But by now he was hyperventilating, and staring at Owen like he was his executioner—Owen, who had given up on holding him down when Jack arrived and was now at the other end of the room trying to look harmless and giving them space—, and not really hearing or seeing Jack anymore. Jack cupped his hand around the Time Lord's cheek to get his attention and put as much force into his voice as he could muster, "Doctor. Look. At. _Me_. C'mon, Doc, don't look at Owen, I need you to look at _me_." Eventually his eyes focused, and his breathing slowed slightly, and his 'deer caught in the headlights' expression cleared into some semblance of coherency. "Do you remember what happened? Do you know where you are?"

He frowned in concentration, then frowned deeper when it took him longer than it should have to remember something as simple as his location. "Torchwood. The TARDIS crashed and you picked me up and we went—we're in Torchwood."

"Good, that's right. Doctor, you have to relax. I promise, you're safe." He stared past Jack to the spot where Owen was still waiting, then stared back at him in disbelief. "He was only trying to help; I told him to do it. Please, Doctor, trust me, no one's going to hurt you here."

Jack's words seemed to calm him slightly and he took in deep breaths to steady himself before looking up at Owen, "Sorry."

He shook his head, "No, I am. Jack didn't think you were...dead...and even though I wanted to give you something that would definitely knock you out, I didn't know what your body could handle."

"For the best; you probably would have killed me for sure," he responded lightly. Jack looked at him unamused. "What? It's true."

Owen hesitantly started to step towards them, "So, what can you take?"

"Nothing earth can provide."

"There has to be _something_ ," Jack insisted.

"Unlikely. Most human drugs are toxic to us too—I doubt you have anything—and I can't get into the TARDIS."

"We have the multi-species sedative," Owen whispered off to the side.

The Doctor snapped his eyes up to look at him. “What's in—never mind, do you have a sample?”

“Um... Yeah, we should.” He dug around in a draw for a minute before pulling out a test tube and holding it out to the Doctor.

He took it between his index finger and thumb like it was about to explode, then brought it closer and sat up straight to examine it. He looked at it, swirled it around, smelled it, put a drop on his finger, and licked it. Then, almost immediately, thrust the tube back in Owen's direction, his breath growing shallow and his whole body stiff. Both Jack and Owen moved forward instantly to try to help. "Stop!" Both men did. "Don't—do anything."

Fortunately, it was only a couple of minutes later that the Doctor's heart rate returned to normal and he unfurled himself from on top of the counter. He looked at Jack with a 'told you so' expression, then fixed Owen with a serious, grim one. "Just get it over with," he said, laying down and turning his head in the opposite direction of Owen, fisting his hands and tensing up again. Owen swallowed, looking nervous, and Jack moved to where the Doctor was looking. "He has to do it, Jack," he stated through closed lids. "I know that, you know that, he knows that—right, Owen?" He turned his head and opened one eye just enough to glance at him for confirmation.

Owen nodded then looked at Jack, "Yeah. I know it sounds bad, but leaving it in is worse."

Jack turned his back on them, running his hands over his face, then looked at the Doctor with a hopeful expression. "Can you fall into a healing coma voluntarily? I mean, you're hurt, right? So does it work that way?"

"No, Jack. It doesn't. What I did earlier didn't do anything but start to fix my brain; and I was woken up before I could finish that." Both Jack and Owen looked at the ground guiltily. "It's not your fault—you didn't know I was doing it. I should be able to when you're done, or the metal's at least out, but you have to remove it before I can repair myself at all. I'm not going to lie, Jack, it'll hurt. We have a higher tolerance of pain than you lot, but it'll still hurt." He looked at Owen, "but you have to get it out." _No matter what._ "Got it?" Owen nodded mutely. "Good. If I fall unconscious at any time, don't do anything about it. Finish it like you would any other procedure, then leave me be. I should be able to fix whatever happened internally; it's the external damage that's on you." He inhaled and exhaled deeply, then closed his eyes and tried to relax his mind and body. "Do it."

_TBC_

 

Please Comment!! <3


	6. When?

It was torture. No, _literally_ , it sounded like they were torturing the Doctor. His gritted teeth had long ago turned into whimpers which had long ago turned into screams. Jack tried to comfort him, tried to make him think of something— _anything_ —else, tried to distract him from the pain. “C’mon, Doc, this isn't even that bad! You know we've been through worse, right?” And at that the Doctor actually laughed. _**Laughed**_. It started as a simple scoff, then a grin, then a soft chuckle, then real laughter that honestly bordered the line of hysteria. "Second best painkiller: distraction," he whispered to Owen, in the same moment the Doctor gasped at Owen’s touch.

Owen rolled his eyes at him, "Just try to make him lay straight."

They had been at it for hours—or so it felt—but they were almost done; Owen had finished digging out the smaller pieces of metal from his head and abdomen and was finally working on the last and largest of them all.

Jack spread out his left hand over the Time Lord's chest so that his pinkie just barely covered one heart while his thumb just barely covered the other, and gently pulled the Doctor's arm straight, holding it against his own heart. "Look at me. Doctor you _**have**_ to relax; struggling just makes it hurt worse. Come on, breath with me."

But another gut-wrenching scream came from the Doctor a second later as Owen finally managed to pull the last piece of metal out. Jack just pushed the Doctor down harder against the table to keep him from moving, and let him grip Jack's right hand as tight as he could. (Which was remarkably tight for a hum—oh. Right. Time Lord.)

"Okay, okay, that's it, I'm done. I just have to stitch it and I'm done." With his words the Doctor's hand went limp in Jack's, his whole body following suit, taking both men by surprise.

"Doctor? Doc, can you hear me?"

"Jack, leave him alone."

"But—"

"No. It's like he said, he can heal himself from here; leave him alone." He had to practically push him away from the Time Lord, "He'll be fine, Jack. I'm going to stitch the wounds closed, but he has a better chance of healing himself than I do."

Jack turned to leave, but stopped, “Do me a favor?"

“What?” he asked, tiredly.

“Don't tell Ianto.”

“Don't tell Ianto what? That he's the reason we have jobs; that he's the one who inadvertently killed his girlfriend; that he's the one you left us for; or that you love him?—yeah, I see the way you act around him. So you'll have to be more specific about what I shouldn't say.”

“Thanks for that. Any of it. Look, I'm going to tell him, honestly, but I don't want him killing the Doctor immediately after we just saved him.”

“Fine. But you’d better tell him as soon as he gets here, 'cause he’ll figure it out soon enough.”

"I know. That's what I get for recruiting people who're clever."

"I won't say a word. Now, go lay down; I don't even want to know how long you've been up, and everyone else is gonna be in soon."

Jack knew there was nothing he could do, so he reluctantly climbed back up to his office to do as Owen suggested.

 

It felt like he had barely closed his eyes before there was a knock on his door. Jack startled awake and looked at the clock: 9:03am and Ianto was already standing in his office. "Morning," he said tiredly.

"Good morning. Everything okay? I was a little worried when you disappeared last night—and did you know Owen's here already? He told me to come talk to you."

"Ha, yeah, I called him in early for his help. Sorry to worry you."

For a split-second Ianto almost looked hurt, "Oh. Something medical, I suppose?"

Jack nodded, stretching, "I had a friend who was pretty beat up and I couldn't treat him on my own. Look, can I talk to you alone for a minute?"

Ianto looked at him wearily, "Sure. Coffee first?" "Yeah, sorry, of course; I could never deprive you of your coffee machine. Thanks, Ianto."

"It’s my job," he said with a small smile as he turned and walked toward the kitchen.

 

He came back a few minutes later with two coffee cups in hand and placed one on Jack’s desk next to his empty glass. “Bit early, don't you think?” He commented as he gestured to the half-empty bottle of liqueur on the table.

Jack shrugged, “Technically I started late.”

“...Okay. So, what are we talking about?” His voice was cautious, like he was steeling himself for bad news but he didn't know how bad it would be.

“I love you, you know that, right?”

Ianto blinked at him—it wasn't what he was expecting. “What?”

“The reason I came back was for you.”

“So you said.”

Jack chewed the inside of his bottom lip. _This shouldn't be that hard._ “The man downstairs—the one who Owen and I helped... It's the Doctor.”

Ianto visibly stiffened, everything from his posture to his facial expression tense, “Really.”

Jack looked at the floor, "...Ianto, I'm not leaving again."

"Never said you were. Sir."

Jack winced at the address. "I just wanted you to know what was going on."

"Thoughtful of you. Now, since I assume you didn't get to finish the rift reports last night, I suppose I should complete and file them for you." He swiftly picked up the stack of papers from off of Jack's desk and disappeared before Jack could even think up a reply.

 

He stood there stunned for a little while longer before picking up his coffee and heading down to the med bay; Owen looked up as he descended the staircase, “How is he?”

“No change really."

“Have you scanned his body for internal damage?”

“No, not yet. Sorry, but I didn't know if you wanted records of that, and I didn't want to bug you earlier.” ( _Irritate you, agitate you, be the one to wake you up..._ )

“Thanks.”

“Yup. So, how'd it go with Ianto?”

“I'm actually not sure; he kinda just...walked out. But the Doctor doesn't have any more wounds that I can see, so that's a good sign, I suppose.”

He scoffed, “Yeah, I guess so. Jack, I'll look out for him. I'm on your side... I think.”

“Wow. Well, your vote of confidence is overwhelming.* But thanks, Owen. I think."

Owen grinned back at him, pleased with himself, "They’ll take a few hours, but I'll let you know if I find anything on the scans."

 

Toshiko entered the hub a little after 9, only to find it eerily silent (even for this time in the morning). But as she walked in further she heard faint noises—mostly various swear words occasionally interrupted by a coherent sentence—and found herself at the top of the railing watching Owen pacing around his lab looking at a stack of papers and muttering to himself. “Owen? Since when do you show up to work on time? I thought it’d be at least another hour ‘till we saw you,” she said smiling.

He glared at her with a foul expression, “Ha. Ha. Ha. You’re _hilarious_ , Tosh. **_I_** was woken up at the crack of dawn to help Jack.”

She pointed to the Doctor, laying still on the table. “Who’s that?”

“Friend of Jack’s.”

“And where is Jack?”

“Office probably.” He looked up at her then, “Leave him alone, though. Unless you need something from him personally, find Ianto—he’d probably be more useful for whatever you need anyway,” he added with a smirk. She smiled, then hesitated for a moment, but didn’t say anything else as she headed towards her desk.

 

Gwen entered the hub a little after 9:30, spilling apologies to a mostly empty room before stopping and realizing how quiet it was. She spotted Tosh and walked over, unsure about the rest of the team. “Hey, sorry, I overslept, what did I miss?”

Toshiko didn’t even look up from her work, “Not much; nothing’s really happened. Yet.”

“Then where is everybody?”

Tosh spun in her chair to make sure nobody else was around, before looking up at Gwen. “Owen’s in his lab—supposedly treating one of Jack’s friends; Ianto I haven’t seen, but he’s probably in the archives; and Jack keeps walking around the hub like he doesn’t quite know what to do.”

Gwen scoffed, “Why? Doesn’t he have paperwork or something?”

She shook her head, “Ianto’s probably doing it—Jack sure isn’t.” She paused for a moment, seeming to gather her thoughts, “I wouldn’t bother him, Gwen. Honestly, I would just stay out of his way right now.”

“...Why?”

“Because, for whatever reason, he’s already wound so tight that he’ll probably snap if you try to stand in his way.”

“Yeah, okay. Thanks, Tosh.”

She just nodded and turned back to her work.

 

Sure enough, about an hour later Jack came out of his office and headed directly to the med bay, not even acknowledging Toshiko and Gwen. They shared a look across their work stations but neither dared to stop him.

“How’s it going, Owen?” He asked, walking down the stairs.

“Okay, I guess; he's still the same. I just got the preliminary scans back but I haven’t had time to completely look them over.” It wasn’t a _complete_ lie… Yes, he got the report back over an hour ago… but he hadn’t gone through _every_ page in _that_ much detail yet.

“Yeah, got it. You did say it would be a few hours. Sorry.”

Owen nodded and looked over Jack’s head to make sure nobody else was listening. “...Jack, who is he, really?”

“An alien,” he offered mockingly.

“Surprising, I know, but I actually figured that out, thanks," he joked back. "I mean who is he to you?”

Jack looked at the ground, at the Doctor, at the stairs (really anywhere but at Owen) as he answered, “A friend. A really old, really good, really...unique friend. He’s one of a kind,” Jack added with a fond smile, half-joking; but his face fell almost immediately when he realized exactly what he had said and how true the words were. Owen eyed him strangely. “Sorry, it’s nothing. Let me know what you find?”

 _Like he needed to ask._ “Of course.”

“Thanks.”

Owen tracked him until he was completely out of sight, then turned around and picked his report back up, running a hand down his face.

_TBC_

 

 

*Gasp* What does he know?! ;) let me know what you think! And thanks for reading!

 

* The Princess Bride (1987); the grandfather, in the opening scene


	7. Bad News

1pm. Almost 5 hours later and the Doctor hadn’t even twitched. Owen sighed, collected his papers, and stood up. He had been putting it off as long as he could—using the full extent of the “few hours” (and then some) he had told Jack the scans would take.

Files in hand he climbed the two flights of stairs between his lab and Jack’s office and hesitantly knocked on the door before letting himself in. “Uh, hey, so I reviewed the scans…”

Jack’s eyes snapped to meet his immediately, “And?”

Owen inwardly winced at the slightest hint of hope he saw in Jack’s eyes; he didn’t want to be the one to extinguish it. “And I have bad news,” he answered anyway, shutting the door behind him. _Not telling him could only make it worse._

He saw Jack’s face drop and harden into something unreadable, and Owen looked down at his papers if only to get away from the penetrating stare. “I did a full internal and external examination...these are the results,” he said, handing Jack the files.

He waited a few moments to let Jack skim through them before summing up what it all meant. “The external damage he came in with has improved, but not by much. If what you said about him regenerating is true, then it’s possible his body can heal faster than a human’s; but it’s also possible he was just healing it while we were operating.” _So, basically: Yes, he could potentially still be alive; but, God, Jack, please, don’t get your hopes up; I don’t want to be the one that has to tell you he’s dead._ “Same goes for the internal damage. Internally there’s little change than I can see; but I didn’t scan him before we started, so I honestly can’t tell you what his baseline is.” ( _Was_ ) “I have no idea what his brain should normally look like—’cause it sure as hell isn’t human—, but he said he was healing it before we...operated, so he may have been able to finish before we were done. Honestly, Jack, I can’t give you a deeper answer. I don’t know anything about him, or his species, or what he normally looks and acts like. I’m sorry, but I have never seen anything like him before.”

He sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling, “Yeah. People rarely do.” A silence fell upon the room as Owen had no idea how to respond to that and Jack wouldn’t look at him. Yet just as Owen opened his mouth, Jack stated, “I’m going out.”

He stared at him solemnly, “That isn’t going to—”

“It can’t hurt, though, either, can it?” he said, sitting up and watching Owen.

He was going to argue that going out, getting drunk, ignoring the problem, ( _being by himself_ ) was possibly the worst thing Jack could do right now, but in the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes was a challenge that made Owen back down. “Fine. But tell the others before you go; I’m going back downstairs.” He walked out, leaving Jack to collect his thoughts and possessions before he too opened the door and left.

He found Tosh and Gwen at their desks, working on—well, whatever it is they were working on—and walked to the middle-ground between them,  “Where’s Ianto?”

Tosh glanced at Gwen who shook her head and shrugged. “Not sure. I think he’s in the archives, but we haven’t seen him.”

“I’m going out for a while, so if you see him, let him know?” They both nodded.

“Thanks. Call me if something happens.” He immediately left, and—after looking at each other, then at the medbay—they both knew he wasn’t really interested in anything that would happen outside of the Torchwood building.

He came back well after 9 o’clock and the hub was quiet once again save Owen’s footsteps against the concrete floor. “Hey, how are you doing?”

Owen watched him as he came down, and, after a few moments, his appropriate expression matching the expected, “Fine,” was replaced with a strange look like he was examining Jack. And apparently he was. There were less stress-lines drawn across his face; less tension built up throughout his whole body; he still remained solemn, but he didn’t seem as… Old. “You seem different.”

Jack was slightly taken aback by the statement, but should have known better—he was a doctor, after all. “Do I?”

“Yeah... Kind of like after you revi— _What did you do_?” he asked, his voice suddenly turning cold and accusatory.

Jack tilted his head with an innocence they both knew was fake. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“ _Jack_ ,” he drew out, warningly.

He shrugged casually, “What’s it matter now?”

“Jack. What. Did. You. Do.”

“I think it makes…” his face scrunched up in concentration, “1,394?* I dread to think how 1,395 feels.”

“And do you feel better, now, Jack?” he demanded viciously, “Did you really think that would solve anything? What if it worked this time, hm? What if he woke up only to hear that you’d died—”

“ _ **Stop**_. You have _no idea_ what will happen if he dies—if he’s dead. I don’t even want to be around. There is _no planet in the universe_ that will be safe if he’s gone—Earth will be conquered, scavenged, or burned within the week without his protection. You wanna know who he is, Owen? He’s the only reason this planet and our species still exists.” He tried to control his breathing, tried to control the anger and pain and fear that he felt. Because he believed that what he said was true: no one would be safe if there wasn’t at least one (well-meaning) Time Lord looking out for them.

Within a month the entire galaxy would erupt into chaos; within a year, the entire universe. And what kind of a life is this? To protect and live on a planet so primitive, 80 percent of the population won’t even accept that alien life forms exist.

“Did everyone go home?”

“Yeah. Thought I’d wait till you came back before leaving—glad you did,” he said, still slightly bitter. Jack looked away from him and at the Doctor, “You want me to stay overnight?”

“No, Owen, go home. Sorry to keep you here all day,” he said, checking his watch.

“It’s fine. Call me if you need me.” Owen stared at him a moment longer, noticing that Jack was making no effort to leave the alien’s side, “Jack, you need to sleep.”

Jack shook his head, not looking up, “Nah, I’ll be fine; I don’t usually need much anyway.”

“Regardless of what you did earl—” he sighed, “Look, being immortal doesn’t mean you don’t have to take care of yourself. Even if you don’t think so, your body needs the rest—at this point, your mind does too.”

“Goodnight, Owen.”

“Jack, I’m serious.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 _TBC_  
  

     
    
*So let’s say this story takes place after “Fragments,” but before “Exit Wounds” (yes, it was a hectic week), because we know from S2E12 (Fragments) that Jack’s died 1,392 times (I’m assuming excluding that episode), but God only knows how many times he died after that.


	8. Rollercoaster Ride

For the rest of the team, the next day started very much the same: everybody trailed in around the same time; nothing exciting was going on; the strange man they had downstairs was still laying in the same position… The only difference was that Jack was now sleeping in the medbay—well, sleeping in a half-sitting, half-leaning against the wall, position—seeming to watch over whoever it was that was down there.

He hadn’t so much as stirred when Owen came down to check on the Doctor (and Owen sure as hell wasn’t going to wake him up), but just after 10, when someone upstairs dropped what sounded like a coffee cup, Jack’s eyes shot open and he was immediately on his feet, looking like he was prepared to fight.

Owen also started at the noise, then noticed Jack’s new ( _battle-ready_ ) position, “Jack, it’s nothing; someone just dropped a glass… You guys okay up there?” he shouted.

Gwen’s voice echoed through the room as she stood above them, looking down, “Yeah, sorry, we’re fine; I just knocked over my mug. How’re you doing?”

Both men answered, “Fine,” at the same time, Jack’s a low growl; Owen’s an exasperated response. Gwen backed off with nothing but a nod, seriously considering and happily complying with Tosh’s earlier warning.

He was agitated. No, he was way beyond agitated. Jack spent the rest of the morning (and late into the afternoon) pacing, sleeping, or drinking in his office; the rest of the time he was either pacing in front of the TARDIS or pacing next to the Doctor. And, despite the fact that nothing had changed for either one of them, he didn't listen to reason—he couldn't.

He was volatile, prone to the smallest annoyance, and, unless there was an emergency—and he couldn't send one of the others to handle it—, his funny, flirtatious persona was all but lost. The team watched him worriedly, but _they have no idea the gravity of the situation. They have no idea what will happen to the planet, to the universe, if he's gone—if he doesn't exist to protect us. They don't know him like I do—and how could they?—we've been through so much together, this can't be the end!_ Jack continued this train of thought and routine of actions without fail until Owen finally stepped in his path.

“Move, Owen.”

“No. Jack, you have to stop. I've been with him all day and you coming back down here every hour isn't going to make him wake up. Jack—" he sighed, "Jack, it’s been over 24 hours. He's still cold. And he's still not breathing…”

“That's normal—I think—just wait a little bit longer. I mean, how long was I dead for after Abbadon?”

Coming from anybody else it would’ve been a rhetorical question; but Jack seemed to actually want an answer, “Days,” Owen appeased him.

“He isn’t there yet. Just don’t—… just leave him where he is.”

Owen nodded at Jack’s back, and a moment after he left he could just hear Jack bark, “ ** _Tosh_** ,” above him.

Both women flinched at the forcefulness in his voice—Toshiko especially, even standing up in order to face him better. She swallowed, “Yes, Jack?”

“I need you to take a look at something.”

“Oh, uh, yes, of course. Where?”

“Basement.” She nodded, briefly glancing back at Gwen before she followed him down. Out of earshot of the rest of the team he turned his head sideways to look at her. “What has Owen told you about the man he’s taking care of?”

“Nothing, just that he’s a friend of yours. Why?”

“Because—well, yes, that’s true; but, more importantly, he’s an alien.”

She stopped suddenly, “What? But he looks—human,” she finished lamely, flushing when she realized how stupid it sounded.

“Some aliens do,” he stated, somewhat condescendingly. “This one is special, though; and I need you to take a look at his ship to see if you can find anything that’s broken.”

“His spaceship? It’s in Torchwood? How’d he even get it in here?”

“We carried it in. Doesn’t matter; what matters is that you’re the only one I know who has a chance to fix it, and the sooner the ship is fixed...there might be a better chance that he’ll recover too.” _Fat chance, but good luck._ “This is it,” he said, pointing to the blue box standing conspicuously in the middle of the room.

“But...it’s just a police box,” Tosh replied, slightly stunned.

“So it appears. Trust me, though, it is So. Much. More. Problem is, I can’t get in; he couldn’t either. And I have to be able to get in if I stand any chance of knowing what’s wrong.”

“There’s a lock; do neither of you have the key?”

Jack withdrew his keychain and searched for the right key, then handed it to Tosh, indicating for her to try to open the door. She tried, to no avail—just like the Doctor had done in the field and Jack had done a dozen times since they got here. “I don’t know why she won’t let us in. Maybe her circuits are fried; or the D—his illness,” _death_ , “has something to do with it.” Jack tried to keep names...species...any clue about who he was away from the other two members of the team until he could think of a better way to tell them; just showing Tosh the police box was probably too much. “Either way, I need a way in—preferably without forcing it open.”

“Yeah, I’ll try. Is there normally only one way in and out? There isn’t another side panel; or the top doesn’t come off?”

“No, that’s it. I have to take care of something, but can you start now?”

“Sure. I have to go get a few more materials—my computer for starters—but then I’ll get right on it. I’ll let you know if I get anywhere.”

“Thanks, Tosh. Oh, and can you keep the files closed? I don’t want anything you find on record.” She nodded at him as he simply left her there to look at it.

****

“I'm going back to the park,” he told the team in general. Owen could still hear him from the autopsy room, Gwen was at her desk, and Ianto was coming up from the archives.

Ianto frowned, “Jack, that's an hour-long drive…”

“I can't just sit here useless; I have to do something.”

“Fine. Fancy some company?”

He hesitated... “Sure, I suppose so.”

  

Going back to the field turned out to be a complete waste of time. Then again, maybe that was the point: It was just a way to waste time; to feel like he was doing something, even if only for a little while. He thought there might have been a clue, something they missed between the dark sky and the dark possibilities, but nothing else they found seemed like it would be important. _The Doctor would probably know what to look for,_ Jack thought dully.

He sulked the whole ride back, but when Jack's phone rang just as they pulled into the garage he opened it eagerly, "Owen? Did something change?"

There was a strange background noise that Jack couldn't quite place—almost like a fight was breaking out—, while Owen ground out, "Jack, I don't care where you are or what you're doing, get your ass back here _now_."

Jack opened the door and started into a sprint from the car, ignoring Ianto's shout about Jack not even waiting for it to fully stop, "Why? What's wrong?"

"He's going ballistic, Jack! I told him he was in Torchwood and now he won't calm him down! He needs _you_."

Jack didn't even reply, simply hanging up on Owen as he raced through the entrance and down to the lab where the rest of the team had already gathered around the Doctor. Tosh and Gwen were at the head of the table, each putting pressure on a shoulder in attempts to make him stop moving and trying to calm him down, while Owen had his legs secured to make sure he didn't kick anyone or rip out the few stitches he had left.

" _Move_ ," he commanded the two girls, pushing past them and planting one firm hand just below the Doctor's collarbones where they had needed four. With how much thrashing he was doing, though, that Jack only needed one hand clearly showed how weak the Time Lord really was.* Jack held him down hard as the Doctor looked around unseeing. _Please be able to hear me..._ " **Doctor**." His movements didn't cease completely, but he showed the slightest hesitation, so Jack tried again, "Doctor, **stop**. It's Jack, you need to listen to me, Doc, _you have to stop._ "

The Time Lord's actions made a reluctant transition—his struggling slowed, then eventually stopped; after a while his panicked breathing turned into deep breaths (albeit how forced they were); and finally his glazed eyes cleared for the most part, finding Jack and tiredly blinking up at his face.

Jack inhaled deeply, trying to set an example, then relaxed his grip into something more gentle. He tilted the Doctor's head the rest of the way to face him, hoping to get him to focus on Jack completely, "Doctor, do you remember what happened?" He opened his mouth, looked around at the other people in the room, then closed it again, pointedly staring at Jack. "Out." He shook his head at himself and turned to face them, "I'm sorry... Thank you for helping," he said more sincerely, "but, please, go upstairs."

Knowing it wasn't their place, the two women followed behind Ianto as he immediately made his way up the steps, leaving Owen, Jack, and the Doctor alone again. The Doctor started to sit up as Jack raised his eyebrows, softly questioning the Doctor, "What do you remember?"

_TBC_

 

*totally not a direct quote, but late into _The Princess Bride_ Westley tells Fezzik and Inigo, "I'll beat you two apart! I'll take you both together! .... Why won't my arms move?" Random, sorry, but that was just what was going through my head in this scene lol


	9. Wait, I’m Sorry, What, Why, and How?

 

The Doctor stared at Jack blankly, a foreign expression plastered on his face that could either mean he didn’t understand, possibly just ignored— _let’s be honest, it’s not that unlikely_ —, or he was desperately trying to come up with an answer to Jack’s question—something that he should have been able to do in 3 seconds flat. Both he and Owen waited patiently, not speaking in fear of breaking whatever concentration the Doctor was going through. “I... Jack, I don’t know how I got here. Jack, I don’t remember.”

His voice cracked and Jack moved in to cup his face, “It’s okay, Doctor. Just breath. What is the last thing you remember?”

“Ralcor. I just left Ralcor.”

 _Like that meant **anything** to Jack._ “Okay, and when was that? Do you know?”

“No, but the TAR—” his eyes became distant, his face suddenly paled, and he actually stopped breathing.

“Doctor? ...Doctor?” He didn’t seem to be aware of anything anymore, so Jack stepped directly into his line of sight and gently shook him by his shoulders, “Doc, please, focus on me.”

The Time Lord startled and blinked, his features taking on a look of anxious worry, “Jack—Jack, what happened?”

Jack swallowed, _How do you explain something like that?_ “What do you mean?”

His frown deepened, “Jack, I can’t feel her. Is she dead? Where is she, Jack? What happened to her? Why can’t I feel her?”

 _Well, shit_. And Jack thought his reaction was bad the first time, “I don’t know, Doc, I wasn’t there; that’s why I need you to remember.”

The Doctor dropped his chin to his chest and started to curl up on himself, continuing despite seeing Owen’s automatic response of moving in to stop him out of the corner of his eye; but the Doctor pretended like he didn’t notice, and only stopped when his knees were pressed tightly to his chest and his arms were wrapped securely around them.

Jack glanced over at Owen before he jumped up onto the counter and faced the Time Lord with his legs crossed. “Doctor?” he prompted softly, as he made no move to acknowledge Jack. When he finally looked up, he continued, “Can I see?” while holding his hands out like he’d seen the Doctor do whenever he wanted to read someone's mind.

The Doctor hesitated, looking at him wearily, before shaking his head, “You don’t want to see.”

“But it'll help.”

“It'll hurt.”

“You or me?” Jack dared him. The Doctor seemed to be trying to work out an answer (or maybe an excuse) but Jack’s simple, “Please?” broke through the Doctor’s barriers and he nodded as Jack began moving closer.

“I don’t know where they are, you know that, right? I can’t lead you to memories I can’t remember.”

“I know. Just try to relax for me, okay? I promise I won’t snoop,” he added with a reassuring smile.

For a wonder, the Doctor actually smiled back (as small and pained as it was) and nodded again, taking a deep breath while Jack slid his fingers into position along his temples…

 

As soon as Jack connected with the Doctor he had to stifle a gasp. While there wasn’t much he could see yet, there was a thickness to the air that felt… different than anyone else he’d ever done this with; it felt like the whole area was charged with an indescribable power. Like the atmosphere before a storm hits. The Doctor was standing in front of him, scrutinizing his every move, waiting for Jack's reaction (probably the same reaction Jack was trying to hide). "Do you have _any_ idea of where to start?"

"Yeah, maybe. Go... That way—no, wait, _that_ way," he corrected, pointing to the right.

Jack ( _unsuccessfully_ ) tried to hide a smile as they moved away; the Doctor scowled back at him.

 

Not long after they started walking—through what could easily be described as a maze—, Jack opened a door to a room consisting of clusters of boxes and cabinets all crammed together in sections. “I think this is it, Jack,” he said surprised.

 _Think! How does he not know?_ "So... What do we have to do?"

"I need you to tap into the memory bank specific to the incident.”

“Right… which is where, exactly?”

“I...don’t know exactly.”

“Oh, well, thanks for the insight,” Jack quipped.

“I told you before we started that I didn’t know,” he snapped.

“I—I know, Doc, I was just kidding,” he replied alarmed. “So how do I find the right one?”

“Memory banks are like… servers. Each one is different and does different things. Glance at the sets individually until you find something you remember about what happened, then open it—like a file folder!” he finished, pleased that he found what he thought was an appropriate analogy.

“Um, okay. Just… pick any one to start?” _How the hell am I supposed to do this?_

He shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck, “They should be divided by events; but I don’t actually know what order they’re in...”

Jack raised his eyebrows in amazement, “Let me get this straight, you don’t know how your own mind works?”

“Hey, I know how _my_ mind works better than you know yours!” he defended weakly.

Jack scoffed, “Okay, okay, you win. Now, how do I ‘glance’?”

“My mind’s open; all you have to do is open yours—well, kind of. See how they’re made up of objects you would use? Go to each area then open the containers to look at what’s inside.” Even the Doctor sounded unsure of his answer.

“Oh, is that all I have to do... Hold on, so _you’re_ projecting those boxes because I would use them?”

“Thought it’d be easier,” he replied with another shrug.

“Well, thank you? Wait, won’t it hurt?” he suddenly asked, concerned.

“No.”

“Are you lying?”

“Yes.”

Jack took a deep breath, “Okay, then will you at least promise me that you’ll tell me if it hurts too much?” He changed his tone from a request to a demand when the Time Lord only stared at him, “Doctor, _promise_ me.”

He sighed exasperated, “Fine, yes, I promise.” _Like I haven’t hidden my pain before._

Jack stayed a moment longer, shifting his weight from foot to foot, not really wanting to look through the Doctor’s memories. With how much he’s seen, how much he’s done... how—and more importantly _why_ —would anybody try to dredge those things back up?

Jack could only guess that despite how optimistic and energetic this regeneration was, the Doctor has seen more bad in his life than good; but said man was watching him expectantly, waiting for him to do as he asked. Jack sighed, closed his eyes, swallowed, opened them again, then turned around to head towards the nearest grouping.

He walked until he stood directly in front of a cabinet then looked at the Doctor with a pained expression on his face. The Time Lord only raised his eyebrows, acting like he had no idea why Jack was stopping, yet giving him a silent reassurance and understanding for what he knew was about to happen. Jack clenched his teeth, squinted one eye closed, and reluctantly opened the cabinet.

 

Jack cringed in anticipation, but when nothing happened he let himself relax slightly and pulled the drawer out more to look inside. Ironically, the compartment ended up holding file folders—actual, ordinary, manilla-colored file folders. Jack breathed out a laugh before realizing that, like the Doctor said, his memories would be stored in such a fashion. Jack just didn’t think he was being so literal. Unfortunately there weren’t any labels— _anywhere_ , Jack noted disapprovingly—; no perfectly printed words of wisdom in Ianto’s neat handwriting. But that was the Doctor summed up, wasn’t it?: too many thoughts moving too fast all at once, so fast that nobody alive could stand a chance at keeping up. Knowing this would be the time to expect something, though, Jack unconsciously leaned back slightly, turned his head away, and opened the sleeve.

Immediately he was transported to a place unknown, with people he’d never seen, and absolutely no idea of how to get back. Eventually Jack closed the file and immediately appeared in the (relatively-) familiar environment of the Doctor’s mind. “So not it?”

Jack shook his head, “I didn’t even recognize the people; Hell, I didn’t even recognize you when someone called you ‘Doctor’.”

The Doctor just returned a noncommittal hum and nodded towards the next row. Jack sighed and repeated the process with five other sets, all turning up nothing. He got to the seventh one, still with slight apprehension, but had begun slowly letting his guard down, finding the past collections calm; so he opened the next file with the same “go get ‘em, what could possibly go wrong?”* attitude he’d had for the last six memories. But he forgot the original reason why he didn’t want to do this. He forgot how bad the Doctor’s life had been.

It was a second too late for the Doctor to warn Jack with a desperate, “No, don’t open that one!” It was a second too late for Jack to see the Doctor’s paling face; the haunted look he took on as soon as Jack picked up the harmless-looking folder. It was all a second too late before Jack was sucked into a world of gunfire and shouting and smoke. Daleks raided the sky, children ran and hid, soldiers fought while the beautiful glass dome behind them crumbled. _Gallifrey_.

While he hadn’t previously, the Doctor appeared in front of him almost immediately, dragging his numb body out of the flaming city—flaming _planet_ —and back into the quiet landscape of cluttered boxes.

“Wha—”

“I told you to wait,” the Time Lord scolded, though he couldn’t really blame Jack—he was simply following orders—; and the Doctor didn’t know what memory it was until it was in Jack’s hands.

“That was—”

“Yes.”

Short, evasive answers. Jack let it drop; they both knew what he saw, anyway. The Doctor figured Jack would want to stop. It was _his_ idea to begin with, and the Doctor had warned him he shouldn’t be here… but without a word Jack moved on to the closest container a next cluster over and opened it quickly before he could change his mind.

Cautiously opening the first folder—he didn’t know what was in this group (and he was a little weary from his last encounter)—he saw the Doctor, _his Doctor_ , eyes rimmed red, matching the blood coating his face, stumbling out of his box into a barren field. Smoke followed him out and after the Time Lord inhaled a few breaths of clean air, he turned around to go back in. And he would have made it, had the doors not slammed shut in front of him. He tried to open them, tried to bang on them, tried to get back in to help his ship, but the TARDIS refused. Jack watched as the Doctor checked himself out, then the police box, then turned towards the road in resignation. He closed the folder.

The Doctor was bent over, staring at the ground, but stood up straight (or tried to) when Jack returned. “Are you okay?”

“I take it that was the one?” Question for a question. Because _that’s_ always helpful.

“Yeah. Do you remember it?”

“No, you have to open the rest of them; even if you just peek I need the whole story.”

Jack pursed his lips but couldn’t really argue—how was he supposed to know how it worked? He opened another drawer, opened another file, and looked around to find the Doctor in the TARDIS; doing nothing specific, just muddling about the controls and mumbling to himself about where to go next.

“You were traveling alone,” he said flatly, noticing his thin frame and sluggish movements. But of course the Doctor didn’t hear him; it’s not like he would have listened anyway.

On the floor, under the console, there lay a box. Just a simple, little, metallic box, with no seams or scratches. The Doctor seemed to dutifully ignore it, and whether he actually knew it was there or not was questionable. “Doctor.” _Damn it, answer me._ Jack groaned, but fortunately didn’t have to wait long before the Doctor bent down and knitted his eyebrows together, noticing the cube with interest and stepping forward to snatch it up. Jack didn’t have to wait long for the world around him to explode.

It was a harmless looking box—no, _really_ , it was—but then, the most harmless of things can sometimes be the worst, can’t they? It seemed to be touch sensitive, Jack thought belatedly. Not going off quite as soon as it was held, but instead when it was played with like a child’s toy. _Like he views everything else that’s dangerous._ Tossing it up and catching it, turning it over again and again in circles… Jack had fondly shook his head at the view, before he couldn’t see anything from the smoke and flames and debris. With a scream he was thrown back against the coral columns, watching as the Doctor was thrown against the railing, sparks flying and metal shards breaking off and lodging themselves in his skin. At least he now knew _how_ the Time Lord was hurt; _why_ remained unanswered. After calling his name, asking if he was alright, trying to help him stand, Jack gave up—he was like a ghost, he couldn’t do anything. Jack instead scrambled to get to the folder before the fire engulfed it—if anything, hoping to go back farther, find out where the damn cube came from.

But he returned to the Doctor on his knees, curled up on himself, his hands pressing his head together like he would crush it. “Doctor! Doc, stop it!” Jack pried his arms away from his head, holding them firmly by his sides. “Look at me, Doctor, talk to me,” he pleaded.

“Get out,” the Doctor hissed.

Jack blinked, stunned, and made to help the Time Lord stand, “What? Why? What’s wrong?”

“Ja—Gah! Jack, do it _now_. Get out!”

“How?” he asked anxiously.

The Doctor looked at him then, his neck at an odd angle from being so low to the ground. “I’m sorry,” he breathed, before he straightened slightly and gave Jack a shove so strong that it sent him sprawling into an abyss, only to revive with a gasp and a residual force that pushed him back so hard he would have fallen off the table if it wasn’t for Owen behind him. Owen, who was (and presumably _had been_ ) desperately repeating his name and trying to shake him awake. “Jack. Jack, you with me? Answer me, damn it. Jack!”

“Shhh,” was the only reply he gave, silencing the ringing in his ears, “I’m here, I’m—” his eyes shot open, panic showing through, “Is the Doctor awake?” He looked over to the Time Lord curled in on himself, minutely rocking back and forth, mumbling, lost in his dreams. “Doc? Doctor, wake up.” Jack shook him harder when he got no response, fear flooding his veins. But Owen was saying something else—and it sounded important—like he was supposed to focus on that. “...what happened...didn’t know what you were doing...tried to wake you up…”

Jack just stared at him dazed, “Huh?”

“Did you hear anything I just said?”

“Yes. No. Sorry, what?”

“What the hell happened?!”

“I don’t know, he forced me out; what was he doing before I woke up?” Jack continued to check the Doctor over, seeing if he could snap him out of whatever was happening in his head.

“I—I don’t…” Owen stammered from the unexpected interrogation, “he was shaking pretty bad; talking about something, but I couldn’t really understand it. I don’t know, Jack, what do you want from me?”

“Nothing. Sorry, nothing… Doctor? God, Doc, c’mon.”

Jack started moving towards the Doctor again, brushing off Owen’s hand on his shoulder and protests with a vague, “Something’s wrong; I have to help him.”

But Jack couldn’t get back in. He concentrated harder, blocked out everything else, but soon realized that the Doctor had locked him out. He wasn’t getting in until the Time Lord let him in. “Don’t do this,” he barely whispered, “Please, let me help.” Jack sighed, easing back out from the darkness, dropping his head into his hands.

“Jack, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. He—I—we found part of the memory that led to now, but he pushed me out before I could find the rest. I don’t know why; he said I had to open all of them before he could remember.”

Jack looked distraught but Owen couldn’t help the blunt, “Open them?” that slipped through unconsciously.

Jack just shook his head and waved him off, “Complicated."

Owen rolled his eyes but let it drop. “So what now?”

Jack heaved a deep breath, “Now we wait?”

“You don’t know?”

“No, Owen, I don’t,” he snapped.

“Geez, sor—”

“No, I’m sorry. It’s not your fault. I just, God, I wish I had an answer...” He paused a moment more before jumping off the table, “I’m going to go see if Tosh found anything. Let—”

“I’ll let you know if something changes. I got it, Jack. Go.” He nodded appreciatively and climbed the stairs.

_TBC_

 

*The Doctor to Ida in The Impossible Planet (S2 E9): “Oh, did you have to? 'No turning back?' That's almost as bad as ‘Nothing can possibly go wrong’ or ‘This is gonna be the best Christmas Walford's ever had.’”

 


	10. Flashback Setback

Yaaaayyyy! Another chapter! :) So there are flashbacks from earlier in the story—they’re relevant, I swear—, but I edited them, cuz I’m assuming you already read those chapters ;) Just an fyi that they are “quoted” but not completely.

     

Jack somberly trekked upstairs, over, then down another level to where Tosh and the TARDIS were. Problem was, Toshiko wasn’t there. “Damn it,” he muttered under his breath. He found her at her desk, however, furiously typing something on her multiple screens. “Hey.”

Tosh jumped at his voice, apparently so focused on her work that she didn’t even hear him coming up behind her, “Ah! God, Jack, can you not?”

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly.

“How’s it going?” she asked, changing the subject.

“Fine.”

She rolled her eyes at his tone, “Okay, well, by using that scale, I guess I’m doing slightly better than ‘fine.’”

His eyes lit up, “Really?”

“Kind of. See this algorithm?” she pulled up a window, “My computer’s running the composition of his ship so I can see any discrepancies. So, no, nothing’s come up yet, but it’s something. Also...” she clicked another tab, “I found a weird residue around the bottom; I’m running that too.”

“Tosh…”

“It’s safe, Jack. I moved everything to a secure server; only you and I have access so far. I know what I’m doing.”

“Sorry, I know. Thanks, Tosh.”

“Do you know where he was or what he was doing before this?”

“Kind of? He said he left Ralcor, but—”

“Wh—”

“—I have no idea where that is. Or what species inhabits it. The TARDIS could identify all that information, but…”

“But it won’t let you in. I’m working on it Jack.”

“Yeah. Hey, you might be able to narrow down the process if you—”

"Jaaack!!" Owen's call rang throughout the hub, followed by a few curses then stressed reassurances to match his tone.

" _Shit_ ," he said, already stumbling over his own feet, ready to run, "Sorry, I'll be right back. Hopefully," he added wryly.

"I'll be here," she called to his back.

 

He took the steps 2 at a time, watching the Doctor squirm under Owen’s hands. “Alright, alright, you’re fine. See? He’s here. I swear it’s fine.”

The Doctor seemed to come out of a trance and, ignoring Owen’s reassurances, looked at Jack like he was an apparition. “Hey, hi, I’m here, Doctor, what’s wrong? Do you remember what happened? Do you know where you are?”

“Jack, how are you—… No…”

 ** _Fuck!_** He took a deep breath, “What’s the last thing you remember?”

“The TARDIS crashing.”

 _Wellllll, closer than before._ Jack swallowed. “You—you called me after that. You’re in Torchwood, Doctor.” The Time Lord’s jaw clenched, his hands curled into fists, and Jack could see him start to shake from the effort not to run. “It’s mine, Doctor. It’s safe. I swear,” he quickly added, taking a step forward to support him from falling off the table. The Time Lord’s shoulders relaxed minutely, and Jack heard more than saw Owen take another step backwards. He pulled himself up onto the table and reenacted what his movements were to the Doctor before, “Can I show you?”

Just as before, the Doctor hesitated, looking at him concerned, “You don’t—”

“Can we skip this conversation? I’m sorry, but I’ve already had it once, and I hate redundancy…”

The Doctor’s lips quirked up, “Since when?”

Jack smirked, then sobered, “I know where they are, Doctor—” he said more softly, “—your memories? I can show you if you let me in.”

The Doctor silently nodded after a tense moment. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, okay. Go ahead.” Jack scooted forward a little more until the Time Lord was within reaching distance and put his hands on his temple.

 

With Jack in the lead they managed to make it to the same spot rather quickly, much to the Doctor’s disconcerted expressions. “How… How did you know where to go?”

“I told you, we did this earlier. I’m sorry, Doctor, really I am, but you’ve been in Torchwood for a while.”

“Then why can’t I remember it?”

“I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head. “Before we do this, though, I need you to promise me something, Doctor.” The Time Lord cocked his head to the side, “Don’t lock me out. If you need me to leave, tell me; but don’t lock me out if I try to get back in.”

The Doctor just stared at him with that, ‘I don’t really have to promise/ there must be a loophole in here somewhere’ expression, but closed his eyes and nodded, “Okay.”

“Thank you.” Jack inspected the boxes again, wondering if the collections had moved around—if that was possible?—or if he should start with what he assumed would be the most recent memories to help the Doctor understand what had happened since Jack picked him up.

“Show me how I got here,” the Doctor said, seemingly reading Jack’s mind.

He nodded back and reached for the first cabinet he came to ( _gotta start somewhere_ ), watching the Doctor’s expression before opening the first file. Like before, however, the Doctor’s only response was an expectant gaze. Jack rolled his eyes and mentally prepared himself.

 

For everything that had, was, and could have gone wrong, that Jack actually opened the file from the last few hours was beyond relieving.

 

_“Can I see?”_

_“You don’t want to see.”_

_“But it'll help.”_

_“It'll hurt.”_

_“You or me?”_

 

He closed that file.

“You weren’t kidding when you said we’d had that conversation.”

“Nope.”

“So what did you find?” He opened a folder closer to the front and crossed his fingers it was the right one. But sure enough…

 

_Smoke followed him out and after the Time Lord inhaled a few breaths of clean air he turned around to go back and the doors slammed. The Doctor checked himself out, then the police box, then turned towards the nearest road._

_He closed the folder._

_“Do you remember it?”_

_“No, you have to open the rest of them; I need the whole story.”_

_Jack opened another file and looked around to find the Doctor in the TARDIS. On the floor, there lay a box. Jack didn’t have to wait long before the Doctor bent down and knitted his eyebrows together, noticing the cube with interest and stepping forward to snatch it up. Jack didn’t have to wait long for the world around him to explode._

_It was a harmless looking box that seemed to be touch sensitive: Not going off quite as soon as it was held, but instead when it was played with like a child’s toy…_

_The Doctor was thrown against the railing, sparks flying and metal shards breaking off and lodging themselves in his skin._

_Jack returned to the present, “Look at me, Doctor.”_

_“Get out.”_

_“What? Why? What’s wrong?”_

_“Jack, do it now. Get out!”_

_“How?” he asked anxiously._

_The Doctor looked at him then, “I’m sorry,” he breathed, before he straightened slightly and gave Jack a shove so strong that it sent him sprawling..._

Jack closed the file.

“You made me promise to let you back in…” he said, understanding finally dawning.

“Yes.” Jack thought about leaving that as a simple answer, but nothing compared to a reenactment. “Can I project _my_ memories to you?”

The Doctor frowned in suspicion at such a question but nodded nonetheless. “You should... Open a box with what's in your mind. Imagine it, I suppose?”

Jack smiled once again at the Doctor’s lack of confidence—it happens so rarely that you can’t afford to take it for granted—but did as instructed…

_The Doctor straightened slightly and gave Jack a shove so strong that it sent him sprawling into an abyss, only to revive with a gasp and a residual force that pushed him back so hard he would have fallen off the table if it wasn’t for Owen behind him. Owen, who was desperately repeating his name and trying to shake him awake. “Jack. Jack, you with me? Answer me, damn it! Jack!”_

_“Shhh, I’m here, I’m—” his eyes shot open, “Is the Doctor awake?” The Time Lord was curled in on himself, lost in his dreams. “Doc? Doctor, wake up.” Jack shook him harder when he got no response, fear flooding his veins. But Owen was saying something else: “...what happened...didn’t know what you were doing...tried to wake you up…”_

_“Huh?”_

_“Did you hear anything I just said?”_

_“Yes. No. Sorry, what?”_

_“What the hell happened?!”_

_“I don’t know, he forced me out… God, Doc, c’mon.”_

_Jack started moving towards the Doctor again, brushing off Owen’s hand on his shoulder and protests with a vague, “Something’s wrong; I have to help him.”_

_But Jack couldn’t get back in. He concentrated harder, blocked out everything else, but soon realized that the Doctor had locked him out. He wasn’t getting in until the Time Lord let him in. “Don’t do this,” he barely whispered, “Please, let me help.”_

_Jack sighed, easing back out from the darkness, dropping his head into his hands._

_“Jack, what’s wrong?”_

_“I don’t know. He—I—we found part of the memory that led to now, but he pushed me out before I could find the rest. I don’t know why; he said I had to open all of them before he could remember...”_

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Jack asked, confused.

“For locking you out. I’m sorry. I can’t explain it now—not in here—but it wasn’t right and I’m sorry.”

“...I was just worried.”

“I know. So!” he instantly brightened. Once again, Jack had to blink at his sudden mood change—he still hadn’t gotten used to them. “Since we didn’t get to finish earlier, shall we try again?”

“Sure?”

The Doctor sobered, “Jack, you don’t have to if you don’t want to. I can meditate or try to find another way.”

“No, it’s fine; I just don’t want to hurt you.”

He frowned, “How would you do that?”

Jack quickly imagined a box and opened it; picking up the one and only folder inside.

 

_After calling his name, asking if he was alright, trying to help him stand, Jack gave up—he scrambled to get to the folder, hoping to go back farther, find out where the cube came from._

_But he returned to the Doctor on his knees, curled up on himself, his hands pressing his head together like he would crush it. “Doctor! Doc, stop it!” Jack pried his arms away from his head, holding them firmly by his sides. “Look at me, Doctor, talk to me,” he pleaded._

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“You know I have to see the rest of it, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” The Time Lord waited for Jack to continue; it was his move after all. Jack moved toward what looked like a familiar cluster—though didn’t they _all_ look the same?*—, aiming for the memory bank of—and more specifically the events _before_ —the accident. He grabbed a stack of files and briefly opened and closed each one, looking for the information only pertinent to the current situation. He continued his quick search, but after shouting a triumphant, “Ha!” he slowed down his investigation and put the rest of the pile down, marking his spot. The Doctor simply raised an eyebrow at him. “I think I found it,” he explained, holding up the folder. “It looks like it was before the cube exploded.” The Doctor hummed in response as Jack stared at him, “You know you promised?”

“Yeah, I know. I won’t lock you out.” _Unless it’s necessary_. Jack narrowed his eyes but didn’t comment, instead opting to just open the folder...

_TBC_

*Finding Nemo (2003), Marlin: “I have _definitely_ seen this floating speck before." 


	11. Just Another Story

**Just Another Story**

Run. That was the only thing that was going through the Doctor’s head— _and thus Jack’s head now too_. Run away; run fast; don’t turn around; don’t look back; don’t stop. Run.

A few more feet. Just a few more feet and he'd be back in the TARDIS, back in the safest place in the universe. The assembled hordes of Genghis Khan couldn't knock down those doors he’d once told Rose.* But he had to make it there first.

Red-orange blood trickled down his head, gathering at his hairline, and it took all his remaining energy to focus on the blue box in front of him. So close in front of him. His key was already in his hand, and when he reached the ship he jammed it into the hole and pushed against the doors. Finally.

He thought he got away, he thought he was safe, he thought he had closed the doors so quickly that there was no way anyone or anything could make it through… But the impossible is what he lives to defy. He was so disoriented he didn’t even consider something could get through. He was so disoriented he didn’t see or even hear the cube as it rolled across the grated floor, stopping under the console, just waiting for the proper moment—and person.

That was enough danger for one day, enough of an adventure (and that’s rare coming from him). He considered going somewhere else; considered visiting a “relaxing” planet; but somehow he always manages to make even the calmest place in the universe dangerous. Except the Vortex. The only place he couldn’t endanger himself—or anyone else. Right?

He initiated the dematerialization sequence and left the planet behind him; he was _never_ going back to Ralcor again. He could feel the ship moving, casting herself off into space, and he leaned over the console muttering to himself that he should probably do something for his head. (The TARDIS nagging him for the same reason didn’t help.) But then he saw it, the innocent looking object glistening on the floor. He bent down to pick it up for further inspection, noticing its pristine condition. He tossed it back and forth a few times,* thinking about what it was and where it could have come from, just seconds before his face fell and he dropped the cube in understanding. Just seconds before the world around him exploded.

He was thrown against the railing behind him, and, while he could see, and _hear_ , the ship shattered and broken, he couldn’t muster the strength to stand up. But, almost immediately, the TARDIS changed flight paths; they didn’t need the Vortex, they needed help.

Her flight was flawless. Well, it was almost flawless. Well, better than the Doctor usually does. She meant to hit the Plass—it should have been easy (especially without him driving)—and it was going fine, really, until she hit Earth’s atmosphere. With all those gaping holes you’d think it wouldn’t be a problem; but no, she just had to bounce off one of the sides, missing her target by a long shot—in _her_ eyes, anyway.

Jack looked over at the Doctor, "She obviously tried to get as close as she could," he offered.

"An hour out of the way isn't bad. Considering."

"Considering how you drive?" he joked, "too true."

“Excuse me, I drive fine.”

“Of course you do,” Jack mollified.

It was a rough landing. Probably one of the worst they’ve ever endured. It hurt, and her pilot was only just getting up when he was knocked back down—she couldn’t do anything about it—and now there was more smoke, and it tasted slightly toxic, and the only thing she could think of was to get him _outoutout_. As soon as he could stand the TARDIS pushed him towards the exit; and before he really knew what was going on, she shut and locked the doors behind him. No point in both of them dying, right?*

But he didn’t react the way she’d thought: That he’d understand and leave. No, he acted _surprised_. He acted _worried_. He acted like she had just _betrayed_ him, while what she did was the opposite. How rude, banging on her doors. They were locked for a reason, the idiot.

Ha! And now he’s walking around, like he thinks the damage is external. Stupid Time Lord. Yes, there are a few chips around the edges, and yes, there may be something stuck under her panels—and of course that _disgusting_ liquid now crusted on her bottom—, but, please, like that was worse than what he had just walked out of.

Good. Finally, he left. That was good. He’d find help; _that’s_ what she meant to do. She just… overshot it by a little bit.

The Doctor’s voice cut through the memory, “Okay, that’s good. That’s enough.”

Jack stopped and they returned to the neutral ground of the Doctor’s head, “You remember?”

“Yes, I do. Everything. But now I need you to leave.”

“You said—”

“Jack, _I need you to leave._ ” His calm, hard voice echoed through the limitless space, and Jack was gone. He didn’t even try to argue.

Instead he woke up on the table, Owen’s concerned eyes staring at him while the Doctor’s were hidden, motionless behind closed eyelids. “You okay?”

“Yeah… Yeah, fine.” He shook his head to clear the invisible fog clogging it. “Watch him for me? I have to talk to Tosh.”

“Sure.”

He remembered to make a lot of noise so that he didn't startle Tosh, and, fortunately for him, he didn't. Whatever algorithm she was running before—how long had it been?—was still going, and Jack suddenly realized that he never finished what he was going to tell her when he was called away. If only he could remember what it was... She turned to look at Jack as he approached, "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, perfect. How's it with you?"

She rolled her eyes but swiveled back to point at the screens, “It's still working on the samples, but I have no idea how long it'll take. Did you have a way to narrow it down?" She asked cautiously.

"Maybe... But first, did you examine the entire exterior?"

"No, not yet... I, uh, I thought I'd start with these."

She anticipated being yelled at for waiting, but Jack just nodded, "Okay," he said, turning on his heels and almost running downstairs.

"Jack?"

"I have to look at the TARDIS; come if you like!" He shouted over his shoulder.

She quickly grabbed her laptop and hurried after him.

Despite the fact that Jack was standing right next to her, the TARDIS still felt... Well, still. Okay, that sounded stupid, but it was the truth. Even Jack had some connection to the TARDIS, and all he could feel was a cold and dark and consuming emptiness radiating off of the shell. Wait, that was it: it felt like an empty shell. "Jesus."

"What?" Tosh asked, worried.

"I think she might—" he lowered his voice, knowing that if the Doctor was awake, he would probably be able to hear them, even down here. "I think he was right... I think she might actually be dead."

Tosh swallowed, "Why? I mean, why do think that?"

"You can't feel it, can you?" He asked curiously. Jack took her hand and laid it on the ship, holding it there with his hand on top of hers. And suddenly she understood; and what she felt—or rather what she _didn't_ feel—made her fight off Jack's hand and pull it close to her body, sheltering it from the cold. “You felt it?”

"Yes," she whispered.

"Now imagine feeling that all the time."

She lost her breath for a moment, “Your friend, downstairs…”

“Yes.”

“Oh my God.” She shook herself and straightened,  “Why did you want to see it?”

“Not sure yet.”

_Oh, helpful._ “Well, why now?”

“Something he said.” _Kind of._ Jack squatted down, resisting the urge to shiver as he ran his hand down the wood. He reached the bottom of the ship and he pulled his hand back, rubbing his fingers together.

“What is it?”

“The panels at the bottom. They’re deformed.”

“How do you know? They look fine.”

He shook his head at her, “I just do.” After spending days on repairs?—making sure everything was untainted inside and out—he knew this ship almost as well as the Doctor. He sat down cross-legged and bent down slightly farther to get a better look under the wood. Soon enough he had lifted the panels enough to grab what was underneath, mumbling an apology to the ship.

He held it up to the light and smiled—finally, a clue.

_****TBC_

****

Whew, that took longer than it should have. And it was short—I just knew I really needed to post something. Sorry, guys, school’s been busy; we work in quarters—for whatever reason—so midterms were last week and this week. Oh, on that note, I’m fairly certain I failed my business calc exam, and possibly my psych 101 test too, so if you ever thought about commenting on this (like, EVER.) now would be a great time to do that lol. Thanks and I’ll try to post in a more reasonable time frame next time :)

* Pretty obvious: Doctor Who, 1x1 (“Rose”)

* I swear it was a total accident, but I just realized I basically stole the idea of a cube from the Doctor Who episode, “The Power of Three.” So, my bad, but I must have come up with the idea subconsciously because I seriously only connected the two where I placed the asterisk...

* Doctor Who 2x8 (“The Impossible Planet”) when Rose and 10 are talking about him having to settle down if he doesn’t have a TARDIS: “Me! Living in a house!... Now that, that—that is terrifying."


	12. Helped, Healed, and Held

**Helped, Healed, and Held**

It wasn’t fancy and it wasn’t whole, but it was something Jack recognized, and that was worth something, right? It was essentially just a piece of metal, but Jack knew better, and smiled when he finally figured out where the Doctor had been.

“You recognize it,” Tosh presumed by his expression.

“Yeah. There’s a planet just past the Merian Constellation known for its minerals—beautiful place, truly, but I couldn’t remember what it was called. This metal can only be found, processed, and kept on that planet.”

“Kept?”

“They’re even more well-known for their war tactics, so they use it to make weapons—that’s really the only thing they use it for—but it’s so specialized they don’t allow it to be transported off their land.”

“...Right.”

He smiled at her confusion, “Point is, unless they’ve changed their formula, I know what kind of poison is in the TARDIS. As long as it isn’t so concentrated it’s fairly harmless; just spread it around a little and it’s fine. It’s not a bad way to go, really… Anyway, if she’ll let me in, I should have enough time to enable the ventilators and get it out. Probably.”

“You’re willing to die for him?”

Jack’s lips quirked up at the question, “Always. I need you to go upstairs, okay? Shut the door and seal off the vents down here until I say so.”

She looked like she wanted to protest but knew it probably wouldn’t make a difference. “Yeah, okay.”

“Great.”

Once she was gone, and Jack heard the vents around him close, he laid both hands against the doorframe and stared at the ship in front of him. “You know I’m your best shot,” he rationalized. “His, too. So c’mon, Gorgeous, open up for me.” After a few moments he felt something resembling a grumble rock the ship under his palms, and soon enough the doors opened, emitting an ugly green fog into the room. “Ugh, delightful. Now why would you keep that bottled up inside you?—it’s not good for you, you know,” he said, smiling wryly. He held his breath and ran in, heading straight for the console and flipping the brightly-colored switch underneath, watching through watering eyes as the fog began to clear. After enough of the haze had dissipated he walked back out of the ship and called Tosh.

“Yes?”

“Just wanted to let you know it’s safe to unlock the door and open the vents back up."

"Doing it now."

Jack waited a few minutes before he left the basement feeling a little better: He had finally been able to do something useful; and with the TARDIS soon-to-be in working order, maybe the Doctor would get better too. He bounded up the stairs and over to where the lab was, watching Owen look over a file as Jack leaned over the railing, “Anything change?”

Owen hummed at his question, “Kind of… There seemed to be a minute shift in his posture and pulse—like he almost relaxed slightly—but since then he hasn’t changed. What'd you do?”

“Hopefully helped him.”

“Vague,” Owen mumbled under his breath.

Jack scoffed, “He has a really strong connection with his ship, so I thought that if I fixed her then his condition would improve too.”

“And you fixed—her?”

“Kind of,” he mocked Owen’s earlier words, then shrugged. “It’s complicated to explain but with what I did she should get better in a little while.” Owen just nodded back. “...Though I guess if he hasn’t really changed I should do more...” Jack continued more to himself. He abruptly left Owen—who was still staring at him—and went back down towards the TARDIS, coughing a little when he got there from the remaining residue of chemicals swirling around the room. He waved away the smoke in front of his face to see better before crossing the threshold of the ship to inspect the damage. “Alright, let’s see what we can do.”

Now that he could make out the rest of the console room, he could understand why the TARDIS would be in such distress. Parts were broken and hanging all over; some pieces of the machine were even lodged in other places, making it look more like a modern art project than the orderly space it usually is. Jack started with the most obvious pieces, pulling them out of the coral pillars and tossing them out through the open doors into the empty room. Once finished, he inspected the "wounds" made to the interior and patched them up as best he could; it wasn't long after that that the lights inside the rotor began to grow brighter and Jack smiled up at the development, "So that was it? Just too messy in here for you?" She purred back at him.

Not even realizing how long it had been, Jack walked back upstairs to find it silent once more, Owen's muttering the only sound of activity. "Everyone leave?" ( _again_ )

"Yeah, where have you been? You disappeared hours ago."

 _Oh. Whoops._ "Fixing the TARDIS. _N_ _ow_ she should get better," he smiled.

Owen scoffed and gestured to the Doctor, "Well he at least seems to be improving. His stitches are mostly gone, and, I mean, while I can't definitively say anything (since he's practically comatose) his vitals seem steadier and he generally looks more relaxed." It was the only medically-relevant information he could offer; there's not much else to say when watching over an unconscious patient. 

"Thanks for the update. You heading home?" he asked, looking at his watch.

Owen shrugged, "Whatever. You don't need me?"

"Nah. Hopefully helping the TARDIS is helping him, but I don't know how long it'll take before he'll—" ( _hopefully_ ) "—wake up."

"Alright, then call me if something interesting happens," he smirked. 

Jack mock saluted, "Aye, Aye."

Owen rolled his eyes in return and left.

 

Waiting is boring. No, waiting is tedious. Tedious and boring and frustrating and you can't do anything to make it stop or to speed up the process. Even worse is when you can't do  _anything at all_. You can't help 'cause there's nothing to be done; you can't leave in case something happens; you're stuck in the same infuriating room with the same unchangeable conditions. And all you can do is wait.

Jack lapped the small space several times over before he noticed the slightest change in the Doctor's state. First it was just a small twitch of a finger* that slowly spread to his hand and then eventually his arm. Soon enough the Doctor's whole body was shifting and when Jack placed a hand on his shoulder and called his name, the Doctor opened his eyes.

  

"Jack?"

He grinned down at him, "Yup, in the flesh. How're you feeling, Doc?"

"Like I woke up from a coma," he deadpanned.

Jack let out a small laugh. _At least he remembers it._ "Sucks, doesn't it?"

"Completely." He looked around himself with all the machines and wires hooked up to him in amusement. "Quite the set up you have here."

"Oh, yeah, here, sorry," he started, helping to disconnect all the cables attached to the Time Lord, "Get off the cold slab of metal and follow me; we can catch up in my office." The Doctor gave him a _Look_ —like he knew Jack wasn't really looking to "catch up"—but silently trailed behind him anyway. It was the least he could do.

 

Jack opened the door and stepped aside for the Doctor to enter first. “So, you’re really feeling better?”

“Yeah, much. Thanks, Jack,” he replied genuinely. He jumped up and sat on the end of Jack’s desk, watching as the other man simply leaned against the door frame.

“Of course.”

There were a few moments of silence before the Doctor narrowed his eyes, “What?” he asked, weary of Jack’s skeptical expression.

He shrugged, “Just wondering.”

He sighed, “About…?”

“You were alone.”

 _Oh. Great._  “And?”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“Because you could have died?” Jack answered incredulous.

“So would have anyone I took with me,” he countered.

Jack looked like he wanted to argue the point further, but instead reluctantly let it drop ( _temporarily_ ) in lieu of something else. “Why _did_ it affect you so much? The poison, I mean—you shouldn’t have lost your memories.”

“Hit my head too, Jack,” he unnecessarily reminded him before sobering, “Maybe because I wasn’t used to it? I haven’t been to Ralcor in—Oh, honestly, I don’t even know how long.” He looked up at the ceiling, squinting his eyes and moving his fingers like he was counting something.

“Doctor, it really doesn’t matter how long it’s been.”

He lowered his gaze back down at Jack and curtly nodded, “Yeah, probably right.”

Jack just rolled his eyes before asking quietly, “And why didn’t you let me in?”

The Doctor closed his eyes for a moment, “I told you.”

"What, that it would hurt? By then I was already in your head; and it wasn't _that_ —I mean, it could have been worse," he quickly amended.

" _Humans_ ," the Doctor muttered disdainfully, shaking his head. "Before I even let you in I closed off 63% of my brain, Jack—oh, don’t give me that look—it was more for your benefit than mine.”

“So you  _did_  know where I was supposed to look?” he asked incensed, standing up straight and advancing on the Doctor.

“No, actually, I only knew which events to block because I could feel them once we got there. You had access to everything but specific events I didn’t want you to see. Well... for the most part," he continued more quietly, looking away. "But what you haven't seen is so much worse, Jack."

"So show me."

"No."

"Show me."

"No."

"Doctor—"

Several expressions passed over the Doctor's face before he settled with a set jaw and penetrating stare. " _Fine_ ,” he snarled. “You really want to know, Jack? You're  _really_  sure you want to know what memory rushes through my head every second of every day?"

"Yes! You shouldn't have to hide anything from me. Besides, it's not like your memories are going to kill me," he added ( _half_ -) jokingly.

 _No. You’ll just wish they did._  The Doctor took a couple of deep breaths to try to calm himself before stepping squarely in front of the other man, "Then sit," he commanded, pointing to the chair behind Jack. After he did, though, the Time Lord towered above him, his eyes piercing and his body radiating such tension that Jack couldn't even look him in the eyes, "You sure you're sure?" he challenged one more time.

"Yes. Just do it."  _Before I can change my mind._

The Doctor shook his head but placed his hands on either side of Jack's head and opened his mind completely, letting the “worse” drown out any other thought Jack had.

 

Death. Destruction. Fire. Fear. Mothers fathers sisters brothers friends strangers, all crying and screaming at once in terror, in pain. He felt what the Doctor felt: the agony and misery and despair and guilt. He saw what the Doctor saw: the entire population running, because that's the only thing left they could do; the reality of a lost cause, of a hopeless, lose-lose situation; of the inevitably of the fall of his planet. Jack could relate—but just barely.

He felt like he was trapped there for days, and at some point he started to feel the tears running down his face, but that's when the Doctor appeared in front of him, taking his hand and leading him away...

Jack woke up with a gasp and they were back in his office, the Doctor still staring at him, but now with a softer glare underlined with concern. "I'm sorry," Jack choked out, breathless.

"I know," he returned cooly. The Doctor studied him a moment longer before turning on his heels and disappearing without another word.

 

He was down—no, he was  _hiding_ —in the archives, mumbling to himself while repeatedly turning some artifact over in his hands playing with it. “I’m sorry,” Jack offered again, walking up behind the Time Lord.  _What else can I say?_

“I know,” he replied, turning around to face him.  _We’ve already been over this._  They stood there looking at each other, neither knowing how to continue. “Now do you understand?” The Doctor asked out of nowhere.

Jack started, “What?”

“Do you understand? Why I didn’t want you in my mind? Why I had rejected you when you tried to reconnect the first time?” Jack just barely shook his head—like he didn’t want to admit he didn’t know; the Doctor sighed heavily like he didn’t want to have to explain, “My walls were breaking down, Jack; I had no idea what was coming out—what I would remember... I didn’t want you caught there if I wasn’t in my right mind to get you out.”  _Oh_. Jack opened and closed his mouth a few times, speechless. “So you do understand.” He numbly nodded in return. A strained silence fell upon the room, neither knowing how to continue. “I never thanked you,” the Doctor stated abruptly, a disturbed look on his face.

“For what?”

“Coming. To get me, I mean. I—I didn't know if you would, and I don’t think I ever sincerely said thank you.”

Jack's eyebrows knitted together, “Doctor, I'll always help you. All you have to do is ask; I wouldn't turn you away. Especially when it's something like this.”

The Doctor just nodded and gave him a small smile in response. Its emptiness made Jack nauseous.

There was another beat of silence before Jack frowned deeper, realization hitting, “That memory...  _that’s_  what you think? All the time,” he clarified, “out of everything, that’s the thing that overpowers every other memory you have?"

“Yes,” he whispered sadly.

“Why?”  _Shit_. Why did that come out? He shouldn’t have asked anything in the first place—he didn’t mean it—at least not that way—but the Doctor’s now wearing a far-off look of guilt and shame and Jack can’t take it back—

“Because it changed me. I don’t know whether it was for the better or worse—maybe it’s a grey area, or a thin line I’m always balancing on—but what I did changed me. And I can’t take it back or do it differently... I don’t even know what I am now because of it.”

And suddenly something in Jack snapped. “Listen to me, Doctor—no, don’t just nod—,  _listen_  to me.” He waited until he had the Time Lord’s full attention before continuing. “You wanna know what you are? You are incredible.” The Doctor let out a rush of air and turned away. “No, don’t do that, look at me.” He moved forward till he was standing in front of the Time Lord, just staring at him until he finally looked back up at Jack. “You. Are. Incredible.”  _God, I shouldn’t have to say this. Not this slowly. Like he doesn’t understand. Like doesn’t believe me._  “You change the world, Doctor, and while yes, sometimes there may be a fine line with what you do, you’ve changed it for the better. There isn’t another being alive who could do what you can; who is  _willing_  to do what you do. You save lives, Doctor; you  _change_  lives. I became a better man because you showed me how to be one.”

“I did more than that to you, Jack,” he said quietly.

“ _Don’t_ ,” he said fiercely. “Just— _don’t_. That’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it. Just once, please  _just this once_ , don’t turn everything someone says to you into a self-loathing punishment.”

The Doctor looked down, “Sor—”

“And don’t be sorry!” Jack took a deep breath, suddenly aware of how loud his voice had gotten and how worked up he was. “Doctor,” he began more softly, “don’t be sorry for who you are. Don’t doubt how amazing you are. You’re brilliant and kind and selfless and generous and essential to the existence of every planet in every universe. Just…” he took another deep breath, “Just don’t forget that.”

The Doctor sniffed, nodded tightly, and made to walk ( _run_ ) away; but Jack grabbed him by the elbow and drew him back, pulling him into a hug. It was only a few seconds after the Doctor tensed in his arms, that yet another one of Jack’s shirts grew damp with tears. He just held the Time Lord tighter, though, and whispered soothing nothings into his ear.  _I know it hurts, it’ll be okay, it’ll get better, you’re amazing, never forget that, it’s going to be okay, you’re strong, you’ll get through this, I’ll be here for you, I’m not going anywhere, you’re safe here, it’s alright, I can help if you let me, don’t be scared, you’re not alone, you’ll never be alone…_

It seemed to go on forever, but when the tears finally stopped falling, and sobs turned into soft gasps of air and hiccups, Jack still held him, refusing to let go before the Doctor did.

 

_tbc_

 

 _*The Princess Bride_  (1987) (Yes, again) ;) FEZZIK to WESTLEY outside the castle: You just wiggled your finger! That's wonderful!

          *Also: [after all the build up...] DW 7x4 ("The Power of Three") BRIAN: You’re never going to believe this. My cube just moved! It rattled!

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

Gah! Finally another chapter! Last one, guys…

 

He had no idea how long they were down there, how long they sat in silence. All Jack knew was that his back started to cramp what felt like half-an-hour ago, and his arms were starting to ache from holding them up so long—though he certainly wasn’t going to complain. Finally the Doctor pulled away from him, though, avoiding his eyes, “Thanks,” he mumbled.

“Anytime.” The Time Lord nodded—more to himself than Jack—and shoved his hands in his pockets. Jack read his body language easily and after a few moments insisted, “Don’t leave. Not yet.”

The Doctor cocked his head to the side, “I haven’t moved.”

“You know what I mean,” he replied, narrowing his eyes. “At least stay a little while. Meet the rest of the team. Recover.”

The Doctor’s attention was drawn somewhere over Jack’s shoulder, an inner debate reflecting in his eyes, “I shouldn’t.”

“You should.”

“Why?”

Jack closed his eyes and took in a deep breath before focusing on the Doctor again, “Because it’s a good idea—for you, for them. For me. Just stay a little while—even a day. Don’t you ever just want to stop for a moment?”

“Not really.”

“Why?”

“...It hurts too much,” he murmured quietly after a moment, and something in Jack broke.

“Doct—”

“Don't. Please, just don't... I’ll stay till tomorrow.”

A small weight lifted from Jack’s shoulders and he nodded his acceptance. It wasn’t as long as he’d hoped, but at least it was something.

 

Dawn came when it was expected, but to Jack it felt too soon; to the Doctor it felt too late. Each man was on his fourth cup of coffee and tea respectively, talking about old times and current lives, how long it had been for both of them and what had happened in between their reunions.

At 9am exactly, the cog door opened and Ianto walked in, the young man stopping in his tracks when he heard voices coming from Jack’s office. Jack’s hearty laugh echoed off the industrial interior while a lighter voice chuckled along with him. Frozen to the spot, Ianto only broke out of his reverie when he heard the second voice suddenly fall silent and Jack beckon him upstairs a few moments later. ( _Damn super hearing._ )

Owen came in half-an-hour later, complaining (justifying) to himself that the only reason he was there this “early” was because Jack would want him to be—it's not like he was curious about the Doctor's condition or anything; really, he isn't. He stopped short, however, to listen to the voices coming from Jack's office. Jack, obviously, Ianto, sure (he was always the first in anyway), but the third voice… Owen would never admit that he smiled slightly when he realized it was the Doctor. ( _And it's about time, too._ )

Tosh, trailed by Gwen, entered not too long after, giggling with each other the way only girls do; but both grew silent when they heard the rest of the team upstairs. They could tell by the tones that the other three members were present, but shared a questioning look when they didn't recognize the fourth voice. Gwen just shrugged and gently tugged on Tosh’s arm, leading her towards the staircase. ( _All they needed was more mystery_.)

 

“Honestly, Jack, that's absurd.” Ianto said above them.

“Complete bullshit,” Owen eloquently added.

Jack and the mystery man laughed, “No, I swear, completely true! You can't just make that kind of stuff up.”

“What are you talking about—you totally would!”

“Hey, boys, how’s it going?”

The four men glanced up at Gwen’s interruption, Ianto with a slight bow, Owen with an acknowledging nod, Jack with a warm smile, and the other one openly grinning like a Cheshire Cat. “Well, hello!” The man greeted, hopping off the desk. He wavered slightly, like he was going to fall over, and both Jack and Owen quickly stood and moved forward, ready to catch him. He fortunately righted himself, however, and the two retreated following his glare. “Hi, sorry ‘bout that, still a bit unbalanced.”

“Being mostly dead can do that,” Jack mumbled under his breath, earning a snort from Owen and another glare from the Doctor. Jack raised his eyebrows, daring him to challenge the statement.

“Anyway, I’m the Doctor.”

“Gwen,” she replied slightly dazed, and shook his hand, “You're Jack's friend, right?”

“Oh, yeah, we go way back. And forward, actually,” he added, glancing back at a smirking Jack.

“Right… Well, um—oh, this is Tosh, by the way.”

“Toshiko Sato, sir. It's nice to meet you,” she said, shaking his hand as well.

He grimaced at the address, “‘Doctor’ is fine, thanks. And we actually met once. Long time ago, that, but still, nice to see you again.”

Toshiko briefly looked at Jack for help, but he just shrugged in response, that stupid mocking smile playing on his lips.

After the small-talk of, “What do you do?” the team mostly disbanded. Already knowing the Doctor, Owen disappeared back down to his lab; Ianto to the front desk. Gwen stayed in Jack's office for a few minutes longer, and the Doctor followed Tosh back to her station, listening to her explaining everything that she found on the TARDIS. He let her ramble on—resisting the urge to interrupt her when she said something wrong—even though he knew most of what she was going to say anyway (he _was_ there when it happened).

A few fixed computer programs later, Jack looked out to find the Doctor sitting across from Gwen, laughing and swapping stories.

A few stacks of ( _finally_ ) completed paperwork later, Jack watched as the Doctor happily trailed a defeated Ianto down into the archives. Ianto, who had up and left Jack hanging when he heard the Doctor was in the hub; Ianto, who had adamantly blamed the Time Lord for the destruction caused to Torchwood, London, since he never heard a different side of the story.

A few hours later the two emerged side-by-side, content smiles on both men’s faces. Jack himself smiled at that and motioned for Ianto to come up to his office when their eyes met across the hub.

Ianto’s expression was mild once again, however, when he shut the door behind him.

“You and the Doctor okay?” Jack hesitantly asked.

“Yeah, I guess... He told me what happened to him at the Battle of Canary Wharf.”

 _Oh_. “And?”

“And I now have a better understanding of what happened.” Succinct, vague, and evasive—a true member of Torchwood.

“Good.” _That_ is _good, right_?

“Yeah.” _Can I leave now?_

Noticing his discomfort about the whole situation, Jack nodded toward the door, excusing Ianto.

He looked at the clock—the day was almost over.

 

  
Dusk fell when it was expected, but to Jack it felt too soon; to the Doctor it felt too late. They had just finished pizza, and the story of how Gwen joined the team, when the Doctor and Jack shared a Look. Or rather, the Doctor shot one and Jack reluctantly acknowledged it. Despite pulling a face at the Doctor's expectant gaze, Jack nodded almost imperceptibly in agreement and “permission.” (As if anyone could _make_ the Doctor do something he didn't want to do.)

When a lull in the conversation fell over the group, the Doctor seized the opportunity and “casually” stood up, stretching as he did so, “Well, I should really head out. I don't want to interrupt your work any longer than necessary.” He said it so politely—and with that perfect mock-innocent smile—that only Jack saw the tension and anxiety that he would be stopped lurking underneath.

Jack though tried to ease that concern, “Yeah, I suppose. Though you certainly helped out a lot around here, so thank you.”

“Oh, not a problem. Simple really.” He exchanged goodbyes with each member, leaving them with thank-yous and various tips pertaining to his individual experiences with them: Tosh on her codes and programs; Gwen with understanding how to be a better leader; Ianto reorganizing the archives “correctly;” and Owen creating better formulas and testing methods. Finally he turned to Jack and nodded towards the door to the basement, “Walk me out?” the Doctor asked, smiling.

Jack grinned back, noticing the looks of confusion passing over the faces of most of his team. “Gladly,” he replied.

Jack followed the Doctor down the stairs, throwing sideways glances at him every few seconds. Finally he just couldn't take it anymore, curiosity over something he saw in the Doctor’s mind killing him inside. "Something’s been bothering me...” he started cautiously, waiting for the Time Lord to look at him before continuing, “I have to know, why is your emergency protocol set to Torchwood? I mean, why us?"

Going against any reaction Jack would have expected, the Doctor actually _scoffed_. "Set to Torchwood?” He asked incredulously before sobering, noticing Jack's deflation. “No, I mean—Jack, it's not set to _them_. It's you."

"Me? What do you mean?"

"You really think I'd simply hand over the most powerful ship in the universe to _Torchwood_?" Jack probably should have taken it as an insult, but instead he brushed it off; it’s not like he didn’t understand the Doctor’s feelings. "No. The TARDIS isn't programmed to Torchwood, Jack. She—” he suddenly broke off and looked uncomfortable standing there, “...She's programmed to you," he finished quietly and looked away.

"Wha—Why?"

He shrugged, "I trust you? You're smart, and experienced, and have the resources; and if something really did happen, you're the only one I would trust to do the right thing." Jack lost his breath for a moment, unable to formulate a response to something he'd always wanted to hear. "Is that okay?"

Jack snapped back to reality at the tone of concern and uncertainty in the Doctor's voice. "Are you kidding? Of course. God, yes, of course. You have to know you can always come here—come to me—for help. You _do_ know that, right?"

"Why?"

 _Ugh! What?_ "Why?" he echoed softly.

"Why," the Doctor restated. "After everything that's happened, why are you so willing to help?" Jack was shocked at how genuinely confused he sounded.

"Because I trust you," he said slowly.

"Why?"

He closed his eyes and sighed, "Doctor, please, not now."

"Then when?"

 _Petulant child. "_ Okay, fine. I trust you, because... Despite all your flaws and faults… You're incredible."

He rolled his eyes, "One, you used that already, and two, you _do_ know that isn't a real answer, right?"

"I think it is,” Jack replied, shrugging. “You save people and make the universe a better place; and while yes, there may have been a few times that I doubted you," _Yeah, only a few_ , his mind offered cynically, "I can't help but have faith that in the end you'll do the right thing. You already have," he added with a crooked smile. The Doctor just stared at him, "So help me, if you ask another stupid question like that..." he teased lightly.

A small but genuine smile graced the Doctor's face before he began walking away, "Nah, wouldn't dream of it. Until next time, Captain!" he waved. He stopped about a foot away from the TARDIS, however, before he turned back, and with a fondness Jack had never expected to be looked at with, said, "Thank you, Jack."

_Fin_

 

^_^ Ta-Da! I know the last few chapters were unnaturally far apart—I usually try to stick to a regular schedule—so a HUGE thanks for everyone who liked, commented, favorited, and stayed with me!

 


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